One May Face a World of Demons
by orchids117
Summary: John Smith is a journalist struggling to make it big in the publishing world. Clara Oswald is a lonely girl looking for a way to let go of her troubled past. Together, they believe it's possible to conquer this world of demons. But when tragedy strikes they're forced to learn the hard truth. Sometimes, the demons win. RatedM just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone, I'm back with a brand new story. This will be a completely human AU story between Clara and the eleventh Doctor. WARNING, this story will deal with mental illness and character death among other possible triggers such as depression and brief spousal/substance abuse. Please just remember it's categorized as tragedy for a reason, so if you have a real problem with these subjects I suggest you do not read this.**

**Now that that's out of the way, please enjoy! Reviews are very welcomed. :)**

**Disclaimer: All rights belong to the BBC, I own nothing.**

* * *

**Prologue:**

It all seemed to happen very fast.

It was hard to believe that, really, she'd only met him one year ago. One year ago when she was first getting out of the asylum, one year ago when she'd started taking her pills regularly and the world she'd been fighting for so long settled into some kind of comforting, monotonous order.

She'd only found him _one year ago_.

And now, here he was, down on one knee in the dark of their living room with a ring in his hands and a hopeful smile on his face.

"Clara," He whispered, "Would you…?"

She said yes, of course she said yes. There had never been any doubt in her mind what she wanted with this man. This extraordinary man who had taken on her demons with a smile and still loved the woman he saw.

And as he stood to slip the ring over her finger and press his lips to hers she could only think of one thing to say.

"How the hell did we end up here?"

She never got her answer.

* * *

_**Eight Months Later.**_

John Matthew Smith stood over the grave of his newlywed wife with a single rose in his hand. Not a red rose of course, she had always believed red roses were pretentious and cheesy. No, her favorite had always been the white roses. She said white flowers had always been the most pure because they hid nothing. Every blemish, every bruise, every speck of dirt could be seen on the colorless petals. To his beautiful wife, they were the only honest flowers. The only ones she would ever accept.

He felt his lips twitch up into a smile as he laid the single flower onto the grass. He stayed there for a moment, clinging to her headstone to balance himself.

Matt sniffed. "I… I've decided to finish the book after all… For us, for you… For me." He caressed the soft curves in the letters of her name and felt the hole in his chest eat away at his insides. How could this have happened? They were happy! Freshly married and only just back from their luxurious honeymoon in New York- the only city the two of them could agree upon as a perfect destination.

Matt flinched when a strong hand found his shoulder. He looked up into the dark eyes of his adoptive father, and reached out to take his hand.

His dad pulled him up to his feet and wrapped his arms around Matt. "She loved you, very much."

"I know," Matt muttered. "That's what makes it hard."

His dad let out a soft sigh, "I know."

He remembered that his adoptive father had once lost a spouse himself, and squeezed him harder. "Does it ever get easier?"

"No," his dad murmured. "I won't lie to you; the hole you feel in your chest right now is never going to go away. Not ever. What you have to do now, is learn to live with it."

Matt sniffed, and pulled himself away from the hug. "We better rejoin the others."

His dad clapped him on the back and let him lead the way.

Matt didn't look back until he was in the isolated safety of his own car. It was only then that he allowed himself that one last glance.

For a moment, he thought he could see her there. Leaning up against her headstone with the rose in her hand. Her dark hair was splayed out around her shoulders and she looked at him with eyes full of grief. The same grief he could feel within himself this very moment.

He blinked, and the vision was gone. Shaking himself, he started the ignition and followed the cars ahead of him out of the cemetery and down the road to the restaurant they were meeting in.

Matt never shed a tear.

* * *

_**Four Months Later.**_

It was months later when he finally found it within himself to pull out the tapes again. He wound up at his desk, typewriter at the ready with a mug of hot tea off to the side. Papers were littered all over his desk, hasty scribbles and notes scrawled across the pages. Each corresponded with a tape, each would help him piece together the story he was preparing to write.

He swallowed down a large mouthful of tea, and reached for the first tape. It was labeled with a simple letter _A_ written in red ink.

Matt popped it into his cassette player and readied his fingers over the typewriter keys.

"_So… How does this work? You ask me questions and I… Elaborate?"_

He smiled when her soft voice echoed through the static of the speakers. He could almost see her sitting in the armchair in front of him, like she used too during their sessions. And for one fleeting moment his world seemed a bit brighter.

"_More like I start you off with a single question and you go off from it. Talk about whatever you want to, or don't. Whatever you don't want published will remain confidential; you just have to tell me. Or not share, it's up to you."_

His own clinical tone brought him back down to reality, and the room seemed even colder than before.

"_How do you mean, 'tell you?' Like a safe word?"_

Matt heard himself chuckle. _"Yeah, like… I dunno… Blue birds or something like that."_

He remembered her smiling over that. _"Naw, Bluebirds are boring. How about… Bowties?"_

He shuddered, and crunched the papers in his hand, fighting the urge not to cry. He could still see her face when she said this, he could still remember that flirty smile that still made his heart skip a beat.

"_Oi! Bowties are cool."_

"_Whatever you say Chinboy."_

Matt reached out and snapped the tape off. The static cut off and the spindles of the machine slowed until the room was silent again. He shoved himself away from his desk, rubbing his eyes and coming around to her armchair.

"Clara," He whispered hoarsely, "Please come back."

The chair stayed empty and the room stayed silent. Matt dropped to his knees in front of the chair and pulled out her ring from underneath his shirt. He kept the small band on a chain around his neck, hidden away from the public eye.

He brought the cool piece of metal to his lips and shut his eyes tightly.

"I love you," He whimpered.

He was answered with silence.


	2. Chapter 2: Clara Oswald

**Chapter 1: Clara Oswald.**

Clara Oswald had always been your typical, average little girl who grew up in a small house with two loving parents. She loved pretending to be a princess, went to school, and had many little friends she liked to play with. As she grew up these friends would dwindle until it was only a few trusted peers she kept close. And that was fine, Clara liked it better that way. Among other hobbies she was an avid reader and loved to write endlessly. She had a book titled _101__Places to See_ in which she listed every place she ever wanted to go. All in all, Clara Oswald was a happy, healthy kid.

This all changed when her mother died.

She was only sixteen years old when it happened. It was a freak accident, they said. Something that could have been easily avoided.

She knew better of course—she was there.

It had been raining as her mother drove the two of them home after a long day. They were arguing—Clara wanted to attend a party her friend Sonya had suggested, but her mother was very firm in her decision that she would not be going.

"No!" She shouted over Clara's whining, "And that's the end of it, do you hear?"

They were both still, glaring at each other while they waited for the light to turn green.

That's when it happened.

The driver came out of nowhere, just like all of the eyewitness reports said. He went flying through the intersection, hydroplaning across the pavement to slam right into their car. Clara screamed as they rolled, covering her face as the windshield exploded, sending glass flying everywhere.

"Clara!" Her mum had screamed.

Clara had blacked out after that, not remembering when the EMT's had loaded her into the ambulance. She didn't remember them driving her to the hospital, or the surgery they had to perform. She had four broken ribs, a fractured femur, and severe head trauma.

She had woken up to the sounds of a heart monitor and her father's voice.

"Hey," He smiled down at her as she blinked away the fogginess in her eyes.

Clara looked around with confusion, "where am I?"

"You're in Barnet General Hospital. You were brought here after you and your mum got hit by another car, do you remember?" He swiped a hair from her forehead gently, but it still made her wince.

She nodded, "Where's mum? Did they take her somewhere? Is she okay?"

Her dad's eyes filled with a grief that scared her. "Clara…your mum…she- she went right through the windshield. She died, sweetheart."

Clara only stared, "No. I don't believe you."

"Clara…"

"No!" She thrashed against him, yanking out the tubes that were still connected to her skin. It hurt, terribly, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. "No, let me see her! You're a liar!"

"Nurse!" Her dad shouted out the open door, "I need some help in here! Clara, you just need to calm down for me, alright?"

"No!" She screeched again when the orderlies ran in to restrain her, "No, let me go! Liars!"

They jabbed her with a needle, and Clara soon felt the effects of the sedative.

"No…" She whimpered, and blacked out again.

It was in that same hospital where she met Nina.

Clara had been dozing off when she heard the door to her room squeak open and shut. She let out a soft moan when her bedside light flickered on and struggled to open her eyes.

"What do you want, Dad?" she whimpered and pulled the blankets up over her head.

She was answered with a soft chuckle. "Sorry, think I got turned around in the hallway, must be in the wrong room again." The unfamiliar voice was quiet with a soft American accent.

Clara tossed the blanket away and sat up. There was a girl standing in the shadows of her room. She was petite like Clara, with heavy dark hair that came over her shoulders in perfect ringlets. Her skin was a rich brown under the dim light of the room, and her eyes were an even darker chocolate color.

"Who are you?" Clara demanded sleepily.

"Sorry, name's Nina." The girl walked forward to shake her hand, "I'm in the room a couple of doors down, I think. Not sure really, this place is such a maze. Do you mind if I…?" Nina gestured towards the chair by Clara's bed.

Clara smiled warmly. "Not at all, I'd love the company."

Nina gave her a bright smile and curled up into the chair. "So, Clara, what'd they get you in here for?"

Clara bit her lip and looked down at the sheets. "My mum and I got in a car accident." She mentally corrected the word accident in her head, she knew better after all.

Nina reached forward to squeeze her hand. "I'm so sorry."

Clara let out a small smile, "What about you?"

The girl in front of her suddenly drew back, curling in on herself. "They all think I'm crazy."

"Who does?"

"Them," Nina waved her hand, "The doctors, my family…them." Nina looked at Clara like she should know exactly what she was talking about.

"Ah," Clara whispered. "I see."

"I mean, I might be a little nuts, but then again, they could be a little nuts too. It's funny how people forget that." Nina saw Clara's wary expression over her disjointed statement and bit her lip. "I didn't do anything wrong," she muttered.

Clara reached out to lay a hand on Nina's leg, "I'm sure you didn't."

Nina smiled and glanced over at the clock. "I best be going before they catch me fraternizing with another patient." She stood and stopped at the door to smile at Clara, "I'll see you soon."

"Yeah," Clara smiled, although she doubted it was true. "Be seeing you."

She didn't see Nina again during her stay at the hospital. She kept looking for her, even asking the nurses if they knew where she was. None of them had seen her but they all promised Clara they would keep an eye out. Eventually Clara assumed she'd already checked out, and swallowed down her disappointment that Nina hadn't stopped to say goodbye. She shouldn't have expected that; she'd only just met her.

It wasn't until she was out of the hospital that she saw her again.

It was shortly after her mum's funeral. Clara was hiding away in the small garden just off the restaurant her father had picked for them to meet at. She'd spent the whole day accepting hugs and kisses and answering questions she didn't have the energy for. She was tired, and her body was still sore despite the fact that it had been months since the accident.

She stared at the tiny fountain without really seeing it, and jumped when someone sat down beside her.

"Hey there, Patient," Nina gave her a saucy grin. "How're you holding up?"

"How… how did you know to find me here?" Clara rasped, trying in vain to clear the tears from her throat.

Nina's grin softened when she held up a newspaper. "Would you believe that they still print obituaries?"

Clara only stared at her, a slight feeling of unease pooling in her stomach.

"Sorry," Nina sighed. "It's just… We hospital girls gotta stick together, right?"

Clara gave her a small smile. "Yeah, guess so."

Her new friend beamed and wrapped her arm around Clara's shoulders. "It's you an' me from now on Clara. From this night on you'll never be alone, I'm always gonna be here for you. I promise."

Clara grinned, "Even if I go a little mad?"

Nina laughed, "Especially if you go a little mad." She glanced at Clara, and held up her pinkie, "Let's swear to it. I'll always be here for you if you're always here for me."

Clara let out a small laugh and locked her pinkie around Nina's. "I swear."

"Clara!" She heard her father call.

She sighed heavily and glanced back. "I s'pose that's my cue to leave… you can come, if you want."

Nina's smile became a little too forced, and she retracted her arm. "Naw, I'll leave that party for you."

"But-"

"Clara!" Her dad sounded closer now.

"Coming!" Clara called back.

"You should go," Nina said quietly.

She turned to argue further, but by the time she had Nina was gone.

As the years wore on, Clara's life seemed to slowly be falling apart. Her ever-perfect grades began slipping after her return to school and no matter what the teachers and tutors tried to do for her, she just couldn't focus. That was the heart of the problem, really; she would do just fine in her classes if she could only _concentrate_ on them. Instead, her thoughts were always full of Nina. Where she might be, when she would decide to visit Clara again, what wild adventure she would pull them into next.

Her friends noticed how withdrawn she was after her return. They tried to help her, inviting her to parties and social gatherings they were attending, trying to get Clara to open up to them with forced interventions and surprise sleepovers. But the more they tried, the more Clara pulled away. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to her friends anymore; she still loved them dearly. It was more like she couldn't. Every time she tried to get the words out they would get stuck in her throat and she would end up standing awkwardly. She found just talking to people was becoming increasingly difficult, and standing up in front of the class was torture.

It was around her seventeenth birthday when the teasing began.

They called her every name they could think of. Clara would try to avoid them all by finding all the small hideaways and crevices of the school. Despite her efforts they always managed to find her. It was always the same group of kids that would come around. She'd never seen them on the campus before, so she assumed they were a year or two above or below her.

They were relentless, throwing food in her hair and hitting her until she was bruised from head to toe. Her dad never noticed, and that made her want to scream. He never reacted to anything anymore, and there wasn't anything she could do to capture his attention. She stayed out late with Nina, stumbling into the house during the tiny hours of the morning. She shouted at him, she slammed doors and trashed the house when he was gone. He never did a thing to stop her. He went to work, he spoke to her when she needed to complete some task, he slept, he drank, but he never raised his voice. He never once punished her.

This infuriated Clara, and she would spend hours locked in her room crying her eyes out. She would curl into a ball and try in vain to block out the voices of the kids from school. These were the times when Nina would show up, when Clara needed her the most. She had a way of blocking out the voices with her smile, making Clara forget about her troubles for a while.

Her phone rang, loud and shrill, momentarily halting the voices that were racing circles in her head.

She sniffed and answered without looking to see who it was, "Hello?"

"Hey there, Patient; guess who's standing under your window right now? Can you come out and play tonight?"

Clara swallowed. "Not tonight Nina, maybe some other time."

There was a pause. "Who hurt you?"

Clara let out a hard laugh. "No one, it just hasn't been a good day that's all. Think I might turn in early tonight…Nina?"

She jumped when there was a groan from outside her window. Nina was already up the tree by her bedroom trying to force the window open from the outside.

Clara stood and opened it for her, stepping out of the way when she tumbled to the floor.

"And she sticks the landing!" Nina jumped to her feet, tossing her hair out of her face, "I'd give that one a ten, what do you think?"

Clara raised her eyebrows. "Why did you just climb through my window?"

Her face softened. "You needed me. I couldn't just let you suffer in silence, now could I?"

Clara swallowed and turned away to sit back down on her bed. Nina followed her, kicking off her shoes and sitting cross-legged on her covers.

"Was it bad today?" She murmured.

Clara bit her lip. "Yes and no. My report card came in today; I got all C's this time around."

"Well that's good, isn't it? It's better than last time," Nina gave her a smile and squeezed her arm.

"Yeah, it is 'course it is. But when I showed it to Dad, he barely even batted an eye. Didn't smile, didn't congratulate me, nothing. His expression didn't even change! He just sat there with his drink, staring at the walls!" She pounded her fists into her bed, "I hate him sometimes."

"No you don't," Nina murmured soothingly.

"No I don't," she repeated. "But I would like to. Things would be so much simpler if I could hate him."

Both girls looked up when the sound of footsteps started echoing down the hallway.

"I've gotta go," Nina stood and half ran for the window.

"Why?" Clara demanded, "Why do you always rush off just when someone's about to meet you?"

She only smiled at Clara, "See you around, Patient."

"Clara who are you talking to?" Her dad burst through the door.

Clara jumped and spun around on her heel. "Nina, she just left."

Her dad came over to join her by the window. "I don't see anyone…"

Clara shrugged, "Like I said, she left."

Mr. Oswald gave his daughter a doubtful look and backed out of the room. "Oh, by the way… good job on the grades."

Clara froze, her hand stuck to the window lock. A slow smile spread across her face, "Thank you!"

It was just shortly after her eighteenth birthday when she began to notice the changes in Nina. Her friend seemed agitated, always looking over her shoulder as though she were searching for someone. Her temper grew short and more often than not she and Clara would end their adventures with a shouting match. The last time Clara had seen her, Nina had grown so angry she'd reached out and slapped Clara right across the cheek.

She tried her best to avoid Nina after that.

Clara was at her job in the little bookstore just down the street from her home when Nina made her first appearance since the violent encounter. She looked haggard, her usually perfect hair tangled up in knots, her clothing crumpled and torn. She wore sunglasses over her eyes, and when she took them off Clara had to blink to realize the dark bruises under Nina's eyes were due to lack of sleep.

"I need to speak with you," she hissed as she passed Clara for the backroom.

Clara glanced around to check for any unwanted observers before following Nina to the back.

Her friend glanced over her shoulder before pulling out an envelope. "Clara, there are things I've kept from you—things I think you should know now."

Clara blinked. "What things?"

Nina sighed heavily. "First of all, my name isn't even Nina. That's just an alias I made up when I was assigned to this country. I'm an intelligence operative, and I've been working for the British government for the last couple of years trying to take down the secret terrorist network hidden under the city."

Clara raised her eyebrows, "You know I don't believe any of this, right?"

She pushed the envelope towards Clara. "No, I wouldn't expect you to. But I promised to always have your back, and I have. I did some digging, and I'm sorry Clara, but it turns out your mother's accident wasn't so much an accident."

"What?" Clara whispered.

"Just…read what's inside the envelope." Nina bit her lip. "It'll tell you everything you need to know."

Clara looked down at the heavy folder in her hands, "But why give me this?"

She paused, "Like I said, I promised to always be there for you. And soon—very soon—I'm going to need you to be there for me. There are instructions inside your envelope. Meet me at the rendezvous point and don't be late. I'll call you after your shift ends."

Clara blinked, and she was gone.

She spent the whole day preoccupied by that envelope. The minutes seemed to tick by extra slowly as it glared at her from the counter where she'd left it. She could see people looking at it, speculating it with a malevolent desire. Some of them knew, she could tell. They knew what was inside, and they didn't want her to have it. Clara could tell by the way they approached the counter with their eyes fixed on her envelope.

When it was finally closing time she said goodnight to the manager and started out for the short walk home. The whole time, Clara felt as though someone was watching her, and she swore she caught sight of a dark van following her from a distance.

Clara unlocked her front door with shaky fingers, almost tripping in her hurry to shut it tightly behind her.

She relaxed as soon as the door was safely locked again, slumping against the wood for just a moment. She was alone; her dad wouldn't be home until he got off work later that evening. It had taken her months but she had finally convinced him to go back. At least now, with his routine back in place, he might have a reason to cut back on his drinking habit. That was her hope anyway.

Clara let out a shaky breath and pulled the envelope from her bag. She took a moment just to stare at it, debating whether she should open it or not. She knew Nina was telling the truth even though it all sounded crazy. Nina would never lie to her. They would protect each other for life—she'd promised that much.

With a tremendous gulp of air, she ripped open the top and pulled out the documents. Her eyes scanned over the print, and the more she read the more her blood ran ice-cold. According to the papers she was holding, her mother had been a part of some secret agency for years. That was why the man had hit them; he was part of a terrorist organization. The same organization Nina had spoken of earlier.

Clara sat down with a huff, flipping through the many photos of her and her mum while trying to deny the evidence in front of her.

The sound of her phone made Clara shriek. She picked it up with shaky hands and answered the familiar number. "Nina?"

"Do you believe me now?"

She swallowed. "Yes."

"Clara, you're in danger. The men who killed your mother want you also, and—"

"Why?" Clara demanded.

Nina sighed heavily. "They think you have information about a project your mother was working on. Clara listen, these men will _kill_ you and your dad if they think you're still alive."

"So what do I do?" Clara's voice shook and she glanced through the front window before drawing the curtains shut.

"You're not gonna like it…" Her friend muttered.

"Nina, just tell me," She growled.

"They need to think you died."

Clara was quiet for a long moment.

"Clara?" Nina whispered.

She let out a shaky breath. "Okay. Just tell me what I need to do."

* * *

Her dad had pulled up just as she was about to go through with it. He had been frantic, screaming and shaking her while the emergency services pulled up. She'd fought them, yelling and kicking when they dragged her into an ambulance. Everyone was shouting, calling her names and taunting her.

"They've got you now Clara!" someone hissed.

She heard a loud giggle. "We'll see you soon, Patient."

"Nina!" She shrieked when they slammed the ambulance doors shut. Clara could see her friend watching her from across the street, sunglasses concealing her expression. "Nina, help me!" She felt the rumble of the truck and pounded against the glass. "Help!"

This was also the day Nina first broke her promise.

* * *

The first few days in the hospital she was kept strapped down to a bed. She screamed and fought against her restraints, begging for Nina to find her. She had seen the janitors watching her; she knew they were just waiting for their chance to strike. Nina had warned her that the terrorist organization had operatives everywhere. Even here, in this place of supposed safety. She needed to escape.

The doctors put her on a heavy dose of sedatives, keeping her strapped down for a few more days before finally letting her get up.

Her first meeting after being set free from her restraints was with a Dr. Jones; a kind young woman who's first thought was to make sure Clara was comfortable.

She sank down in a chair across from Dr. Jones, glancing out of the window to watch the shopkeeper across the street.

"Now then, Clara, do you know why you've been brought here?" Dr. Jones asked in a polite tone.

Clara shrugged.

Miss Jones scribbled something down on a notepad and glanced back up at her. "Clara, do you ever find it hard to concentrate? Do you ever have problems connecting with people—your friends, family?"

"Um…" Clara was momentarily distracted when the shopkeeper waved at someone, "Yes." She watched the doctor scribble more notes. "Where's Nina?"

Dr. Jones glanced up. "Who's Nina?"

"My friend, where is she? I saw her when they came to take me, it's very important that I find her."

"Why is it important?"

Clara swallowed, and shrank away. "It just is."

Miss Jones leaned forward, "You're safe here, Clara. You know that, right? You can tell me anything."

"No I can't," Clara countered, "You might be working for them."

Concern crossed the young doctor's face, "For who Clara?"

"The terrorists," she felt her hands starting to shake, "Nina told me they were everywhere."

"Did she? Well, I can assure you that there aren't any terrorists working in this hospital," Miss Jones offered Clara a smile.

Clara relaxed a little, and timidly smiled back. Dr. Jones spent most of the session asking her endless questions about her life: school, friends, and everyday activities. Clara answered most of the questions easily, only hesitating when Dr. Jones started asking about her dad. He hadn't come in to see her during her stay here. Clara was sure he would; she had seen the reaction her actions had caused. She had been so proud to see that reaction, but despite her efforts her father kept a safe distance between himself and his daughter, instead using the telephone and holiday cards as a way to communicate.

She spent the next three months in that asylum. The doctors diagnosed her with a form of schizophrenia, among other things. Clara hadn't believed them at first, still half convinced they were all in on a plot to kill her. Eventually though, as she started taking her medication regularly, the world began to look less dark around the edges.

In the beginning she would see Nina around the hospital. She would be watching from a distance usually, circling the hospital while searching for a point of entry. But as Clara continued to take her medication and submit to the therapy sessions with Dr. Jones, she started seeing Nina less and less, until she didn't see her at all.

And still, even when Dr. Jones had informed her father of her progress, he stayed away. He would call her occasionally, sending her holiday cards throughout the year, but he stayed away. She asked him about it once, during one of their few phone calls.

He had sighed heavily. "I'm just busy Clara, it's not like I don't want to see you but I've got work. There are so many things I have to pay for, what with you in hospital and your mum's passing… I'll try, okay? I'll try."

Clara had swallowed down her hurt. "Yeah, okay Dad."

It was shortly after her nineteenth birthday when Clara was finally released from the hospital. Dr. Jones had one condition—that she didn't live alone. Her father had turned her away, claiming he was moving for work and didn't want to uproot his daughter so soon after her stay in the asylum.

Clara hadn't missed his choice of words.

Instead, she would be staying with her Aunt Linda. The first few days were awful; her aunt had a way of hovering. She was constantly in Clara's face about everything, almost as if she thought she could mold her niece by presenting herself with enough self-importance and arrogance. Clara was unimpressed, and spent most of her time either at the bookstore or in her room.

It was only a handful of months later when Clara received a call.

"Clara! Phone!" Her aunt shoved the landline at her. "It's your doctor."

She snatched the receiver. "Hello?"

"Yes, hello Clara. This is Dr. Jones from the psychiatric hospital. I'm so sorry to bother you, but I got a rather unusual request from a young journalist today that I believe might benefit you."

Clara blinked, "How could a journalist possibly benefit me?"

"Well, he told me he's looking for a subject to base a book on. Sounds like he wants a primary source to base his story off of, and I was wondering if you would be interested. Of course, it's your choice and if you want I can take steps to ensure anything you reveal to this man that you don't want published remains confidential, but I believe it might be very therapeutic for you."

She took a moment to think about it. "I don't know Miss Jones, I'm not sure I'd be very comfortable with the idea."

"I understand, but I have a number for you if you decide to go through with it."

"I'd like that, thanks."

Miss Jones read out the number to her, and hung up shortly after that. Clara spent the rest of that night thinking about the possibility. It wasn't conventional therapy, that she knew, but it sounded so tempting. To be able to talk to someone with an outside perspective— someone who wasn't a doctor or a friend or a family member, but an objective viewpoint, was almost too much to resist.

Two days later, Clara called the number.

A warm male voice picked up the phone. "Hello, this is Smith speaking."

"Hi, my name's Clara Oswald. I was told you went to Dr. Jones at Priory hospital looking for someone like me." She sounded nervous, and tried to shut down the butterflies in her stomach.

"Ah yes! Clara, I'd love to meet with you. How does tomorrow at the Timberyard sound? We could meet around eleven or so."

"Great," Clara smiled, "I'll see you soon."

"I look forward to it." Mr. Smith said before hanging up.

"What are you smiling about?" Linda snipped when Clara skipped past her.

She shrugged, "Just a good day. Goodnight Aunt Linda."

That night Clara barely got any sleep. She spent most of her night tossing and turning, and the sleep she did get was riddled with nightmares.

She woke screaming to her alarm, smashing down on the buttons in a mad attempt to shut it off. She stayed still for a few moments, trying to catch her breath. The horrifying images of her dreams playing out behind her eyelids as her heart slowed.

Clara sucked in a deep breath, and hauled herself out of bed.

It took her no time at all to get ready that morning. She was showered and dressed within a half hour, pills taken and breakfast eaten.

"Morning, Linda." She smiled when her aunt shuffled into the kitchen.

"Did you take your meds?" Linda grumbled.

"Yep, and I don't know when I'll be home yet but I'll text you." She kissed her aunt's cheek and spun out of the door, "See you later!"

Clara left the house that morning with a nervous flutter in her stomach. She was still uneasy with the idea of talking to this mysterious Mr. Smith, but she was going to give it a try. She promised herself to take Dr. Jones up on her offer to protect her with confidentially, and set out for the cafe.

By the time the taxi dropped her off in front of the coffeehouse, Clara had nearly turned back four times. The harmless butterflies had turned into a full-blown terror that threatened to pull her into a panic attack.

She stopped just outside of the doors and pulled in a deep breath. She could do this.

Without giving herself time to think about the consequences of what she was about to do Clara boldly marched into the small shop and grabbed the attention of one of the staff members.

"Excuse me; I'm looking for a Mr. Smith."

The young boy pointed towards a corner booth that was tucked away from all the other noise, "Right back there, miss."

Clara gave him a smile. "Thank you."

He sent her a nod and went back to cleaning tables. Clara hesitantly made her way over to the booth, feeling the butterflies jumble up again when Mr. Smith came into view. He had a lanky, skinny form with long legs stretched out into the aisle. His brown hair flopped over into a slight curl above his forehead, and Clara couldn't help her slight smile when she saw his chin. It stuck out proudly from the rest of his face, somehow managing to make him look quirky without being obnoxious.

In an attempt to rekindle her courage she sucked in a breath of air, and opened her mouth to speak.

* * *

**I'd like to take a quick moment here to make a point. As you are all aware now, in this story Clara suffers from schizophrenia. I just want to point out that the way in which I have and will be portraying this illness in this story is based on a _very_ specific case that I came across during my research. Not all people who suffer from schizophrenia have hallucinations or delusions of this magnitude. By definition, schizophrenia is said to distort a person's: thoughts, acts, expression of emotions, perception of reality, and relations to others. For some that doesn't include wild hallucinations or major delusions. There are many people who live normal, healthy lives while dealing with this illness. As I write this I am trying to do my absolute best to be sensitive to the subject, so if any of you read something I have written that is wildly incorrect or offensive _please_ do not hesitate to make me aware of it.**

** Lastly, part of the purpose behind this story is to raise awareness for a growing epidemic in our modern world. If you notice that you or a loved one has begun to show some of the characteristic signs of schizophrenia, some of which include: loss of appetite, loss of hygiene, disorganized speech, social withdrawal, difficulties with focus etc. I encourage you to seek help right away.**

**Thank you, and sorry for the ridiculously long author's note.**


	3. Chapter 3: Matt Smith

**Chapter 2: Matt Smith.**

John Matthew Smith was a journalist. He'd always wanted to be a full author, with a proper publishing deal and all of that, but somehow the opportunity had never arisen. That is, not until after his boss approached him with an assignment to write an exposé on a local mental health facility. He had grumbled about it, but stayed quiet when best mate Jack teased him. It seemed to Matt that he always ended up with the articles nobody else wanted. Of course, he was still fresh out of university with, as his boss put it, a "naïve view of the world" so, really, he shouldn't expect anything more.

So, instead of fulfilling his dreams by writing the stories that made headlines and working on his novel in his free time, Matt Smith was stuck behind a desk, writing about cats stuck in trees and lost bicycles.

That is, until he was assigned to this article on Priory Hospital.

As it turns out, Matt was no stranger to mental illness. For the first fourteen years of his life he grew up in a household with one alcoholic father and a mother that suffered from major depression. He blamed most of that depression on his father—he'd seen the photos. His mother looked so happy in all of their pictures around the house—that is—until shortly after she'd married his father. That was when the smiles were replaced with a blank look that sent shivers down a young Matt's spine.

His mum was beautiful when she smiled, her gentle eyes lit up with a soft glow and her cheeks dimpled around the corners of her mouth. Without that smile she looked lost and alone. Her face was drawn, drooping at the eyes and mouth in a way that wasn't healthy. Her skin had turned a sallow grey and the dark bruises seemed to be a permanent fixture under her eyes. Sad was the only word Matt could think of that adequately described his mother's appearance. She looked sad.

His father liked to beat on Matt and his mum. He used to lie around the house nursing a bottle, waiting until the two of them got home to release the rage he kept pent-up in his heart. He would go after Matt first, knowing it would get a rise out of his mum.

"C'mere you little-"

"Paul!" His mum screeched when Matt's father yanked him by the shirt, twisting seven-year-old Matt's arm behind his back just to hear the boy cry.

"Shut up, May!" Paul shouted, and shoved Matt aside now that he'd served his purpose. His mum cowered when his father loomed over her. "How I discipline my boy is my business."

His mum shied away from Paul's hot breath. "He's my son too, Paul."

Paul slapped her across the cheek, smirking when she cried out. "See, May? That's what happens when you misbehave. Be careful now or I'm going to have to punish you too." His words were slurring together, his body a bit wobbly as he tried to support himself on spindly legs.

Matt ran to his mum after Paul stumbled back into the kitchen for another drink. May was staring out into space, one hand cradling the flaming skin her husband had just slapped.

"Mum?" Matt's voice was shaky.

She blinked and took her son into her arms. "Now you listen to me Matt, I want you to escape this house. I want you to go upstairs, pack a bag, and run. Get as far away from this place as you can."

He looked up at her with wide eyes, "but what about you?"

His mum got that faraway look in her eyes again. "I need to stay. I deserve this, but you don't. That's why I need you to do this for me."

Matt shook his head violently. "No, Mummy, I'm not leaving without you."

"You've got to, baby," She whispered.

"No!" He shouted.

"Oi, What're you two whispering about in there ay?" Paul stuck his head into the room with a fresh beer in hand.

May gulped. "Nothing dear, go back into the kitchen."

He glared at Matt for a moment. "Are you upsettin' your mum?"

Matt shook his head. "No, Father."

Paul's glare deepened and he stumbled towards them. "Are you lying to me?"

The dangerous tone his father had slipped into had not registered with Matt, but his mum knew it well. It was often the tone he used before her worst beatings. "No dear! Matt's fine, I just need to get him to bed 's all."

Matt didn't struggle when she gripped his hand tightly and hauled him up the stairs to his room. Well, mostly his room. More often than not he shared it with his mum when she needed to hide from Paul.

As soon as they were inside May locked the door tightly and rested her head against the wood. "That was too close."

"Mum?"

His mum took in a deep breath, "what is it, sweetie?"

"Why are you still with Paul?" Matt asked innocently.

She stiffened, gripping the door handle with more force than was necessary. "It's time for bed, Mattie."

He blinked—his mum only called him Mattie when she was at her saddest. He obediently allowed her to change him into a nightie, staying quiet as she changed and crawled into bed beside him. Downstairs he could hear his father stumbling into things, cursing at the top of his lungs when something that sounded like glass hit the floor.

Matt huffed, and allowed himself to sink down into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

This pattern continued for the next seven years of Matt's life. Things would be good for a while; his father would promise to quit his drinking. He'd start off well on his way, entering into rehabilitation centers and group therapy sessions. His mother would start to hope as the weeks would go on, and Matt would begin to see a hint of that smile on her face again.

But then, just as things were looking up they would always go bad.

His parents would get into a fight, it didn't matter about what. More often than not it was money: his mother was taking an expensive medication for her depression and his father refused to believe that she actually needed it. It was his sound belief that the depression was all in her head, that in reality she was just fine. He would call her things like "attention seeker" and "pill popper" and his mother would shout back with "alcoholic" and "abusive." Eventually the arguments would become so heated that Paul would start to throw things, which always ended up with Matt's mother having fresh bruises to nurse.

On one such occasion Matt stayed trapped in the kitchen until they were finished screaming. He heard the door to his bedroom slam, and held his breath as silence started to blanket the whole house.

He waited until he could hear his father moving again to venture out of his hiding place.

"What are you doing?" Matt demanded when he saw Paul going for the alcohol he kept locked in a cabinet.

"What does it look like?" His father's tone was gruff, sending up a warning flag in Matt's head.

"Don't do this, not now, not this time." Matt urged.

Paul whirled around to glare at his son. "Don't tell me what to do!"

He shrank back, holding his hands up in front of his face in a defensive move. "I'm going." He half ran up the stairs, stopping in front of his door. Matt gave it a light rap, "Mum? It's me."

He could hear no sounds coming from the other side of the door. "Mum?" He tested the door; it was locked. "Mum?" He jiggled the handle furiously when panic started to take hold of his heart. Frantically he felt along the top of the door frame for the key; he could hear the window creaking open inside. He knew his mum would be at her most vulnerable right now, but she wouldn't do anything stupid would she?

At this moment, Matt wasn't sure, and that scared him more than anything.

"Come on!" He shouted at the door when the key wouldn't fit. He could hear the window slamming closed again. Matt prayed to anyone that was listening that she hadn't gone out to the fire escape.

He shoved the door open when the lock finally turned, causing it to smack into the opposite wall. "Mum!" He shrieked, rushing to the window.

She didn't look back as she spread her arms wide and took one last step away from the safety of the fire escape.

He froze, he couldn't believe his eyes. Outside he heard people shouting, he saw them when they rushed over to the scene. He heard it when the sirens started wailing in the distance, and briefly wondered if they were the ones that would be heading this way.

He stood staring out of the grimy window. A small bird had landed on the railing of the fire escape, taking a moment to clean its wings. Matt was fascinated by the small creature, using it as a way to focus his mind to keep it from raging out of control.

Downstairs, his father started singing.

* * *

It was just before his fifteenth birthday when social services took Matt away from his father and shoved him into foster care. The police had arrested his father at a drugs bust only a few streets over from their apartment. Matt had never been aware that Paul had sunk so low, and was shocked to open his front door and come face to face with two police officers who wanted to take him into their station for questioning.

Once it had become clear to the police that Matt hadn't been a part of his father's illegal activities social services stepped in with a court case to try to get Paul away from Matt. Within months Matt's father was jailed, their apartment was sold and Matt was shipped off to a foster home in Leadworth.

It was here that he met his best friend.

His foster parent's names were Ron and Carroll Donald; they lived in a small house not too far away from the only post office in town. Besides Matt there were two other teenage foster children living in the home—Jack and Amelia.

He met Jack first.

"Your room is just down there and to the left—you have a roommate," Mrs. Donald pointed and gave Matt a kind smile.

He smiled back. "Thanks, Mrs. Donald."

She scoffed, "oh, sweetie, call me Carroll."

His smile widened. "Thanks, Carroll." He followed her directions to an open doorway, clinging to his rucksack tightly. Inside were all the things he had ever owned: a few pairs of clothes, a photo album dedicated to his mum, and a set of toiletries.

Matt knocked on the door frame. "Hello?"

A boy around Matt's age glanced up from where he was reading on a bed. He was long and lean; with spiky hair that seemed to be gelled to perfection, light blue eyes and a sharply defined face.

The boy raised an eyebrow and glanced Matt up and down in a way that made him blush, "you my new roomie?"

He was taken back in surprise over the American accent, but finally nodded while attempting to clear his throat. "Ah—yes, I s'pose I am."

The boy leaped off the bed and offered his hand with a flirtatious glint in his eyes. "Well hello. Name's Jack Harkness, but all my friends just call me Jack. Can I just say that I've always really had a thing for bowties? It takes a real man to pull off such a stylish article of clothing, and yours suits you nicely." He winked.

Matt opened and closed his mouth like a fish for a moment. "I—that is—well…thanks. No, but thanks."

Jack laughed and held up his hands. "Hey, don't worry about it. We have an unspoken rule here; we can date anyone we like as long as they don't live under this roof. You know what I'm saying?"

"I uh…I guess so," Matt gulped and glanced at the other bed in the room. "That mine?"

Jack glanced over his shoulder and nodded. "Here, lemme help." He took Matt's rucksack and set it down next to the bed, looking surprised when he felt how light it was. He gave Matt a curious look, "This your first time in foster care?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

Jack cocked his head to the side. "Parents…?"

Matt swallowed and glanced away, "Dead." He hoped Jack would let the subject drop, tightening his fists to try to fight off the panic he could feel coming.

To his relief, his roommate didn't press him. "Anyway, you should go meet Amelia. I think she's out in the garden at the moment. I'll show you," He grabbed Matt by the hand and pulled him through the house to the back door, "Right out there." He pointed.

Matt squinted against the glare of the sun, and caught sight of a head of vibrant ginger hair. Amelia was tall, with pale skin and a round face. Matt opened the door and stepped out into the yard, taking a few steps toward her as she looked up. She smiled at him, her green eyes lighting up with welcome.

"Hello there!" She called with a Scottish trill in her voice. "You must be Matt, heard you were coming." She stood and wiped her knees, extending one small hand to him.

He grinned widely and took her offering. "Just got in. You must be Amelia. Jack was telling me about you."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, it's Amy—Amy Pond. And as a word of advice: don't believe everything Jack says. He can be a bit…flamboyant."

"Hey!" Jack cried from his place on the patio. "I'm very well behaved!"

Amy crossed her arms and huffed. "Whatever you say, Jack." She smiled at Matt apologetically, "So, where are you from then?"

"Northampton."

"Ah, I know it. Spent some time up there in a foster home a few years back," Amy seemed to get lost in a memory for a moment before shaking herself.

"If you don't mind me asking…how long have you two been, you know…?" Matt blushed, stuttering over his words and feeling like an intruder for asking such a question.

"I think I was eight years old when I went into my first home," Jack mused.

Matt blinked, "so young?"

He shrugged. "Not really, there are kids who spend their whole lives in foster care. I got lucky; I had two parents that loved me. Those are memories that can't be taken away."

Matt nodded, understanding. "Amy?"

The redhead's facial expression was closed off, and she abruptly marched past the boys for the house. "Excuse me."

Matt blinked and glanced at Jack. "Should I not ask questions like that?"

Jack sighed heavily. "Amelia never knew her parents. She's one of those kids who have spent their whole lives in foster care."

Matt looked back through the kitchen window, where he could see Amy washing something. "I take it that's not something she likes to talk about."

Jack pulled in a deep breath and gave Matt a pat on the shoulder. "C'mon, Carroll was starting dinner before you got here and I'm sure she wants some help."

Matt spent about a year in that house with Amy and Jack until he met David and Rose Tyler. They were a young couple with one other teenaged daughter they had adopted years ago. Rose couldn't have children, but the two of them had wanted kids so badly they turned to adoption as a solution. Now they were looking for another addition to their family, and they wanted Matt.

He'd met them several weeks ago at the school where David worked. It was an accident really, the Donald's and the Tyler's had always been good friends and Carroll had asked Matt to deliver a banana cream pie to David that day as a holiday treat.

Matt had stepped into the warm classroom with the pie in hand. Except for where David sat at his desk, the room was empty.

Dr. Tyler glanced up and set his pen down. "Yes, what can I do for you?"

"Hi, my name's Matt, I'm a new resident at the Donald house. Carroll just wanted me to bring over this banana cream pie she made as a holiday gift." Matt set the treat down on his desk with a nervous smile.

Dr. Tyler grinned at him widely. "Did she? And how do you like the Donald household, Matt?"

He grinned. "'S great, Carroll and Don are really kind. I got very lucky."

"That you did," David said quietly and abruptly stood. "Well, I think I better lock up for the night. Mind helping me carry a few things out to my car?"

"Not at all," Matt said and took the boxes he was handed. "What is it you teach, if you don't mind me asking."

"Physics, my boy!" The professor gave him a manic smile. "Always was my favorite subject in school, and I never wanted to be anything other than a teacher. Why not put the two together?" He glanced at Matt. "What about you? Any plans?"

Matt shrugged. "Dunno, figure I'll do sixth form and get my A-levels. Other than that I have no idea."

"Well come on, you must have some dream you've always wanted to accomplish." David pulled out his keys to lock the classroom door.

"Well…" Matt trailed off.

"Well?" Dr. Tyler prompted.

"Well, I've always had this dream of being an author. Used to make up little stories at school when I was a kid," He admitted with a blush. "Paul didn't like it; he used to tear them up, called me a prissy for writing them."

David gave him a concerned look. "Who's Paul?"

"My father," Matt said briskly.

"Where's your father now?" He closed his eyes, "sorry, rude question. My wife always gets after me for that. Rude and not ginger as they say."

Matt gave him a smile. "No, it's fine. He's in jail now, got caught selling drugs not too far from our flat."

"Oh," David blinked, "I'm sorry to hear that."

He shrugged. "'S fine, I don't mind."

They stopped in front of a small car. "Where's your mum in all this, then?"

Matt's eyes darkened and he looked down at his feet. "She died."

They were both quiet for a moment until Dr. Tyler reached out to squeeze Matt's shoulder. "You know, Matt, I'd love for you to meet my family sometime. Are you free for dinner anytime soon?"

"Yeah, yeah I'd like that. Thank you Dr. Tyler," Matt reached out to shake his hand again.

The professor smiled at him before getting in his car and driving away.

Everything seemed to move very quickly after that. Matt started going over for dinner at the Tyler household every Wednesday night. He adored Dr. Tyler's wife Rose, she was kind to him, always wanting to know things about Matt's life and even going so far as to prepare some of his favorite meals.

Dr. Tyler and Rose had one other daughter named Jenny whom they had adopted many years earlier. She was a blond ball of pure energy, taking after David so much sometimes Matt doubted that they weren't related in some way. He and Rose would joke quietly, saying they had known each other in a former life or that Jenny was David's clone somehow.

As the weeks turned into months and the month turned into a year Matt found that Wednesday evenings had become his favorite night of the week. He would leave for the Tyler house around six to help Rose with dinner, and stay until around nine. The four of them would always sit down together at a table to eat, which surprised Matt. In all his life he'd never had a proper sit-down meal with his family. He found he rather liked it; they would all swap stories from their week, and more often than not they would end up laughing for so long the food went cold.

Despite all of this however, the day that Dr. and Mrs. Tyler announced they wanted to adopt Matt came at a complete surprise to him. But of course he accepted their offer. There had never been any doubt in his mind that he liked these people, and could maybe even grow to love them if given the chance.

"What did you do? Did you charm them, were you funny, what?" Jack asked as he helped Matt pack his now much heavier rucksack. "Oh! I've got it, you sweet-talked Jenny."

"I did not!" Matt cried out indignantly.

Jack winked. "Whatever you say mate, I saw the look in your eyes every time you came home. You were like a lovesick puppy!"

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Oi! Can't you boys ever keep it down?" Amy appeared in the doorway with crossed arms and an irritated expression. "Some of us are trying to study."

Jack snorted. "Study? With that kid Rory here? I doubt it."

Amy's face turned as red as her hair. "Jack!"

His hands flew up, "hey, don't kiss and tell, I get it. I'm just saying-"

Amy lurched forward and grabbed a pillow, quickly smacking Jack over the head and stomping out of the boys' room.

Matt and Jack glanced at each other, and burst into fits of giggles.

"No, but seriously though, how did you do it?" Jack asked once he'd caught his breath.

"Jack!"

* * *

As it turned out, living as David and Rose's son had been the best thing that had ever happened to Matt. He spent the next couple of years living in a home, one in which he knew without doubt that he would always be loved and protected. He loved his adopted sister Jenny, and always saw her as flesh and blood. They treated each other like normal siblings would, right down to the bickering and slamming doors, but at the end of the day he could always count on her to be there for him.

Overall, the next few years were the happiest of his life, and soon enough Matt was finished with school and on his way to becoming a promising journalist at a high end newspaper in the Northern part of London.

That's where things started going wrong.

His boss liked him well enough, and Jack had wound up working as a journalist for the same paper, so it wasn't like Matt was alone. It was just that all the other employees—his boss included—saw him as rather naïve and uncultured. They saw his floppy hair, childlike face, and eccentric clothing and immediately saw him as a big three year old. Which he wouldn't have a problem with, really, if it didn't mean he was stuck writing fluff articles.

"It isn't journalism!" He once complained to Jack, "It's—it's, oh I don't know, it's sprinkles! The kind of sweet topping you put on the real cake."

Jack would just roll his eyes. "Just be patient, I'm sure they'll give you something good soon. You just need to prove yourself."

Matt grumbled, "yeah, whatever."

It was with this same pessimistic attitude that Matt drove over to Priory Hospital on his way to do an interview with a Dr. Jones on local mental health. He didn't expect to hear anything interesting really, and as he pulled up to the hospital his heart seemed to slowly sink down to its lowest.

With a tremendous sigh he grabbed his shoulder bag and stepped out of the car. The receptionists directed him to the office that was down the hall from the main lounge. Dr. Jones was a pretty young woman with a bright smile and a warm welcome. Her optimism and lighthearted manner soon began to wear off on Matt, and soon enough he found himself genuinely laughing along with her jokes.

It was at that very moment, in this tiny office in the corner of a mental hospital when the idea struck him. The idea that he'd been searching for all of his life—the inspiration for a novel.

He was on his way out when he spun around on his heel. "Dr. Jones? I'm sorry, but I have one last question, and it's more of a request really. You see, I hate being a journalist. I love writing, but I hate this job. I've always wanted to write a novel, and I had an idea that came to me not too long ago."

"And what was that?" Dr. Jones asked politely.

"Well… I wanted to write a story centered on mental illness and how an individual deals with that particular situation. I feel as though the story would do best if I was allowed access to someone who has been diagnosed already, and I was wondering if you knew anyone that would be willing to speak with me."

Dr. Jones stared at him for a moment. "Well…obviously I can't give you any of my patient's personal information, but…I'll make a few calls; I can't promise anything, but there might be someone willing to talk to you."

Matt reached forward to shake her hand one more time. "Thank you very much, I really appreciate it."

She took his hand. "Mind you, I can and will take legal action to ensure that they have every protection possible against you printing sensitive information they don't want published."

"Of course, I would expect no less."

"Alright then, it was nice to meet you, Mr. Smith."

Matt smiled. "And you. Have a lovely day!"

"You too," she called as he half ran down the halls in a mad rush to get back to his car.

Once Matt was safely inside he took a moment to just sit and let what he had just done sink in. Of course, there were no guarantees that anyone would actually contact him. Despite how hard he tried to keep himself from hoping Matt couldn't help the tiny spark he could feel in his chest. He adjusted his bowtie, started his car, and drove away with a mad grin on his face.

He spent a week waiting for a phone call.

Despite his efforts not to hope, Matt was terribly disappointed when he didn't receive a call from anyone within the first few days after his interview at the hospital. He typed up his article, sending it in within a day or so for editing and nearly jumping out of his skin every time a phone rang.

Two weeks went by and he heard nothing.

Matt still refused to give up hope, he'd called Dr. Jones the other day to do a follow-up story on mental health and at the end of the conversation she had admitted she was still asking around for him. He thanked her, and hung up to type up the new article.

Three weeks went by and the sheer number of Pop star songs Matt was forced to review were starting to drive him insane.

Four weeks went by and still he heard nothing.

By the time a full month had ended Matt had given up all hopes of ever receiving a call from anyone, so when his mobile rang late that evening he answered it thinking it was for work or telemarketing.

"Hello this is Smith speaking," he said groggily.

"Hi, my name's Clara Oswald. I was told you went to Dr. Jones at Priory Hospital looking for someone like me," A small female voice came through the speaker, and Matt couldn't believe his ears.

Excitement made his heart flutter. "Ah yes! Clara, I'd love to meet with you. How does tomorrow at the Timberyard sound? We could meet around eleven or so." Matt tried not to sound too eager, but he couldn't help the mad rush of words coming from his mouth.

"Great," Clara said enthusiastically, "I'll see you soon."

"I look forward to it," Matt said before hanging up with a huge smile. He did a fist-pump in the air. "Yes!" He dialed another number, knowing it was late but not really caring. She would probably be up waiting for Rory anyway.

"What?" An irritated Scottish voice snapped.

"Amy! Amy I did it! I found a way to start my novel. I'll be writing a story about a woman who suffers from a mental illness, a real woman! She's meeting with me tomorrow at a coffee shop. Amy it's really happening!" He laughed out loud.

"Good for you Matt, I'm happy for you, I am, but have you seen the time?"

He blinked. "Ah, no, what time is it?"

"It's almost bloody midnight! Now, hang up the phone and go to bed. You can be excited tomorrow; you don't want to fall asleep on the poor girl, do you?"

"Yes, quite right. Thanks Amy, goodnight."

"Night, Matt," Amy yawned and hung up.

Matt was barely able to fall asleep that night. He spent the whole time tossing and turning around in his bed, trying in vain to slow his thoughts down enough to allow him to sleep. Before he knew it the alarm was going off and he was jumping up to take a shower. Matt was showered, shaved, and ready to leave within fifteen minutes. He stepped out of his flat, locking the doors tightly before going out to his car and driving himself to the Timberyard.

He was only ten minutes early, and as Matt ordered his coffee and settled down in a private booth he had a brief moment where he doubted if Clara would actually show up. He was a stranger after all, what sane woman would meet with a stranger to be interviewed about their personal life? What insane person would meet with someone they'd never met in a setting like this to talk about such a sensitive subject?

Matt was eager to find out.

He heard her when she came in, but didn't look up from his book. He wasn't reading the pages, not really. He was watching the doors with his peripherals while trying to look as though he actually had a reason for being here.

He heard her asking a waiter where to find him, and then her footsteps coming closer to his table.

Finally, he allowed himself to look up.

He couldn't help but stare for a moment. Matt hadn't been sure what to expect, but it definitely wasn't the person who was standing in front of him. Clara Oswald was very short; if he had been standing he would say she barely reached his shoulders. She had a petite figure and a pixie like face with dark hair that was pulled up into a loose ponytail. Her dark eyes were gentle and warm as she smiled at him; her cheeks scrunching into adorable dimples that made him want to smile back.

"Hi," she said, "I'm Clara Oswald; we spoke on the phone earlier."

Matt smiled, and stood to take her hand. "Yes, hi, I'm Matt Smith. I believe we have a lot to talk about."

"Yes," she said as they both tucked themselves back into the booth, "I believe we do."


	4. Chapter 4: Impossible Girl

**Chapter 3: Impossible Girl.**

Clara opened her mouth to speak, and smiled when Mr. Smith looked up from his book. "Hi." Her voice came out crackly. "I'm Clara Oswald; we spoke on the phone earlier."

Mr. Smith smiled, and stood to take her hand. "Yes, hi, I'm Matt Smith. I believe we have a lot to talk about."

"Yes," she said as they both tucked themselves back into the booth, "I believe we do."

He sat staring at her for a moment, drumming his fingers on his book.

"What?" she asked after a few moments of silence.

Matt blinked. "Sorry! 'S just… you weren't what I was expecting."

Clara raised her eyebrow, "how so?"

"You look…well, you look rather normal. More than normal, actually you're—you're beautiful. I wasn't—" He cut off with a blush. "I'm sorry; I didn't quite mean to say it like that."

She shrugged. "It's alright; I don't mind being called beautiful." She gave him a reassuring smile. "But don't let that give you any ideas, mister; my parents brought me up good and proper."

Matt raised a hand, "Scout's honor."

Clara grinned at him as they fell into a relaxed silence. "So," she prompted, "I hear you want to write a book about mental illness."

"Well." He twisted to reach into his bag, pulling out a small recorder along with a pen and paper. "Actually, it's a bit more specific than that. I want to write a story about your personal experience with mental illness: what events in your life led up to it and how it's changed you and so forth."

"I see," she said, the nervous flutter back in her stomach. "And you think I'm a good candidate for that?"

"Well, yes I do. But of course I would respect your decision to decline if you have to. Despite the fact that you will remain anonymous in the book, you would still be telling me a deeply personal story. I can understand if you walk away."

"No," Clara answered too quickly, "I'm staying."

A slight smile tugged at Matt's lips. "Good, ah…shall we begin?"

Clara glanced over her shoulder; whilst they were talking, the shop had started to fill up considerably. She bit her lip. "Could we go somewhere more…private?"

"Of course." Matt immediately stood and started shoving his belongings back into his bag. "I can drive us over to my place if you like; it's only me there so we won't be overheard."

Clara considered it for a moment; he seemed like a nice enough man but a person never could tell these days. He could be a serial killer for all she knew.

As if he could read her mind, Matt held up his hands. "No funny business, I promise."

"You better not. I can be dangerous," she warned in a tone that was more teasing than threatening.

She saw him suppress a smile as he let them out of the coffee shop. "I'm sure you can be." He pulled out an umbrella when the rain hit them, and Clara pulled her coat in tighter. She nearly jumped out of her skin when he took her hand. "Run!"

She laughed as he pulled them down the street to where his car was parked. He quickly unlocked her door, pulling it open and shielding her from the rain. "Your carriage, miss."

Clara only rolled her eyes and climbed into the car. She knew this was a crazy decision to make—she knew next to nothing about Matt Smith. But Dr. Jones had trusted him enough to give her his number, so couldn't Clara trust him?

She wasn't sure, but smiled anyway as he drove them through the busy streets of London. She had a can of pepper spray at the ready should the need arise, and it wasn't as though Clara was defenseless. She knew a thing or two about knocking someone out to make a quick getaway.

"So, how long have you been a journalist?" she asked timidly.

"Well I got this job just under a year ago now, but I wouldn't say that I'm a journalist." Clara detected a trace of bitterness in his tone. "My boss has me writing fluff pieces. Lost kittens, good deeds, stuff like that."

"Is that not journalism?"

Matt glanced over at her as they pulled onto a quieter street. "In a way I suppose it is, but it's…well, it's boring, and hardly anyone ever reads that stuff anyway."

"I do," she pointed out.

He blinked, and pulled up to a curb. "We're here."

Clara followed him from the car to the small apartment complex across the street. He handed her the umbrella and unlocked the door with quick fingers. She shivered when the wind picked up again, trying to keep her teeth from chattering too loudly.

After another moment of fumbling with his keys, Matt got them inside.

Clara rubbed her arms in an attempt to get warm as she followed him up the stairs to his door. It was painted a deep blue, with a small silver handle and a yellow 11 tacked on the top.

"Welcome to my humble home." Matt gave her a grin as he waved her inside. "I admit it isn't much, but it's enough."

Clara stopped just inside to get a better look around. The front door led right into a large, well-furnished lounge. To the left she could see a door that led into a modest kitchen and to the right was another doorway that opened into a study. In front of her there was a small flight of stairs that led to what she assumed was Matt's bedroom.

"Wow," She said, "It's a bit bigger than I expected."

Matt grinned. "That's what I said. Anyways, let me take your coat." He pulled the coat from her shoulders and tossed it aside, heading quickly for the kitchen. "Do you want anything? Coffee, tea, biscuits?"

"No, I'm fine." Clara answered absently while walking over to a small bookshelf tucked in a corner of his lounge. These books all looked well read, some of the spines being held together with strips of duct tape. She cocked her head to read the titles: there were books like Shakespeare's play _Hamlet_ and Agatha Christie's _Death in the Clouds_ among novels like Amelia Williams' _Summer Falls_ and all seven of the _Harry Potter_ books.

"See anything you like?" She jumped when Matt appeared right behind her with a mug in hand. He smiled at her apologetically. "Sorry."

"It's quite an interesting collection." She commented, "I love Amelia Williams too."

He smiled. "She's a great person."

"You met her?" Clara's eyes were wide.

Matt winked and beckoned for her to follow him into the study. "Who do you think the afterword is for?"

She stood stunned for a moment before following him into the other room. He waved for her to take a seat in a snug armchair across from his desk. She sat and glanced around at the room. The walls were filled with books and files, the desk cluttered with note pages and recorders and an antique typewriter. Off to the side Clara saw a cassette player, and raised her eyebrows. Nobody she knew had such an outdated piece of technology these days.

Then again, no one she knew wore bowties and braces with tweed blazers.

"Do you mind if I record this? It's easier than scribbling notes, although I'll do that too." Matt reached for a blank tape to put in his recorder.

"No, go ahead." Clara said as she tossed her bag to the floor.

"Alright." He popped the tape into the recorder and pressed the right buttons to start the machine.

Clara shifted in her seat. "So…how does this work? You ask me questions and I…elaborate?"

She watched him shift into a more business-like manner as he prepared his notes. "More like I start you off with a single question and you go off from it. Talk about whatever you want to, or don't. Whatever you don't want published will remain confidential; you just have to tell me. Or not share, it's up to you."

"How do you mean, 'tell you?' Like a safe word?"

Matt smiled. "Yeah, like…I dunno…blue birds or something like that."

"Naw, bluebirds are boring. How about…" She glanced around the room until her eyes came to rest on Matt again. She felt a wide grin spread across her face, "Bowties?"

He glanced down, and gave her an indignant look. "Oi! Bowties are cool."

"Whatever you say, Chin boy," she chuckled.

Matt opened and closed his mouth like a fish for a moment, "I—that's—oh, shut up."

Clara laughed. "Okay, maybe you should start asking me questions now."

"Right." His tone shifted again. "Why don't we start with the basics?"

She bit her lip nervously.

"What's your favorite color?" Matt asked seriously.

Clara's eyebrow rose. "What?"

"Your favorite color," he said again. "What is it?"

"Red," She answered slowly, sounding unsure. "Why?"

Matt gave her a kind smile. "Relax, Clara."

It was only then that Clara realized just how tense she was. She released a huge breath she hadn't known she was holding and sank back into her seat. "Oh."

Matt grinned, "Better?"

She smiled back at him. "Yeah, thanks."

They stared at each other quietly for a moment until Matt shook himself, "Alright then!" He smacked his hands, rubbing them together with sharp movements. "Let's begin. Would you please state to the recorder who you are and what you are…diagnosed with?"

Clara swallowed. "My name is Clara Oswald, and I'm a schizophrenic."

She was rather proud of herself. Since her official diagnosis, Clara had found it difficult to think of herself as schizophrenic. She hadn't even been able to say the word out loud because of how terrified it made her feel. What did it even mean really? Clara was normal; she was your average nineteen year old girl living in London with her aunt. There was nothing special, nothing different about her.

She didn't miss it when surprise lit up his eyes. He must not have known beforehand what Clara had been diagnosed with. "Hello, Clara."

She gave him a little wave. "Hello, Chin Boy."

He chuckled. "So, Clara, how long have you had this illness?"

"Well…" She trailed off. "Officially, I was diagnosed with it seven months ago. However, the doctors are fairly certain I've had it since I was sixteen."

"Why sixteen?" he asked innocently.

She gave him a small, kind smile. "Bowties."

Her abrupt use of their safe word caused Matt to jerk up. He blinked, and searched her eyes for a moment. "Alright…how long were you in the asylum?"

"Three months," she answered quickly.

"Do you know why you were sent there?"

Clara couldn't help but smile at his almost direct quotation of Dr. Jones. "Are you trying to impersonate my doctor?"

He chuckled. "No, isn't that illegal?"

She grinned at him. "I wouldn't know. I do like the sound of that though, the Doctor, might even be better than Chin Boy."

Matt's smile widened. "What's this; am I getting an upgrade?"

Clara bit her lip. "Maybe…"

He searched her face for a moment before slipping back into his business persona. "Back to my original question though: did you know why you were sent to the asylum?"

Her smile faded a little. "Yes."

"Why?"

Her shoulders slumped and she looked down at her hands. "I did something…or really, I tried to do something…bad."

Matt was quiet for a moment. "What did you almost do?"

She sucked in a deep breath and brought her eyes up to his. "That's a bit of a story."

He gestured to the recorder. "That's why we're here."

Clara swallowed. "Well…when I was sixteen I met a girl named Nina. She found me in the hospital after…after I was in an accident," She waved a hand to hold off his questions. "Anyway, we became friends. After I was allowed to go home she would come visit me. The two of us used to go a little wild when we were together." She smiled over some of the memories, but shook herself back into the present. Those memories weren't real. "Anyway, long story short Nina was a hallucination. She came to me one day claiming my…accident wasn't so much an accident after all. She claimed she was an international spy trying to take down a terrorist group, and that this group had targeted me."

"What did she ask you to do?" Matt whispered.

Clara let her eyes slide away from him, allowing her gaze to settle on the rotating spindles of the tape recorder. "She wanted me to burn down my house. Nina said that as long as the group thought I was alive they would be coming after me, so we had to make it look like I died. If I burnt the house down she would take care of making sure people thought I died inside."

The study was quiet for a long moment.

"But you didn't do it, obviously." Matt broke the silence with a whisper.

Clara let out a bitter smile. "No, but I tried. I'd just started the fire when my father showed up. He yanked me out of the house and called the fire department. They had it out fairly quickly, and I'm told the damages were easily repaired."

"You haven't seen for yourself?" He looked confused.

She sucked in another breath. "No…once I'd been admitted into the asylum, my father decided that he didn't want to have much to do with me. I can't blame him, really. If my daughter had tried to burn the house down I would be a little frightened too."

Matt's expression was sympathetic. "I'm sorry." He looked like he wanted to reach across the desk to take her hand.

Clara shrugged. "It's fine. I live with my aunt Linda now; at least she doesn't get lonely anymore."

"But still, he's your dad, Clara. You must miss him."

She snorted. "You'd think so, wouldn't you? I'm sure you grew up with two parents who were never afraid you would hurt them or yourself. Who loved and supported you no matter what you did. My mum was the only real parent I had, dad was always working. He never quite approved of me anyway, not like mum did. Not like I'm sure your parents did."

Matt leaned away from her, surprised by the hostility in her tone. His expression closed off. "You shouldn't assume things about strangers, Clara."

She jumped, his statement causing her to take a closer look. He continued to keep his expression carefully neutral to her, looking down to scribble a few notes. "Did you see Nina after you went to hospital?"

Clara was quiet until he looked up at her, "for a while. She used to walk around the building like she was looking for a way in, but I haven't seen her since I started taking my medication."

"Did you have any other…symptoms?"

Clara shrugged. "I s'pose so, never paid attention though. You'd have to ask Dr. Jones about that."

Matt made a note and looked up at her. "So…if I were to ask you to summarize your life so far in one word, what would you say?"

The room was quiet for a while as she thought about it. She gnawed on her lip, eyes sliding over the desk to land on the carpet. How to sum up her life in one word?

Finally, she looked back up to Matt. "Ask me again…on Wednesday."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Why Wednesday?"

She shrugged. "Because it's my day off from the bookstore…because hopefully I'll see you again that day. Take your pick."

Now both of his eyebrows shot up. "What would we do, if I were to see you?"

Clara smiled. "Oh I dunno, if it just so happens that you bump into me. We could…go feed ducks or something."

"Go…feed ducks?" He asked slowly.

She felt the blush crawling into her cheeks. How could she have said something so ridiculous? "You're right, sorry that's stupid—"

"No, no, I like it." Matt grinned at her. "So, if I see you at the Timberyard at…say five-thirty? Yeah, at five-thirty, then we can go duck watching."

"Feeding," Clara corrected.

He held up his hands, "right, sorry, feeding."

They smiled at each other for a moment until the sound of the tape inside of the recorder caught their attention. Matt quickly reached over and yanked it out, "Looks like this one's full."

"Sorry, I wasn't very helpful, was I?"

"Oh no! I mean yes! All of this will make a great story, you were enormously helpful." He scribbled a letter on the tape and enclosed it in a plastic protector. "Are you hungry?"

Clara jumped when her stomach suddenly growled. She laughed. "Yeah, s'pose I am."

"Good." Matt reached into his pocket for his mobile. "How does takeout sound?"

They spent the rest of that night huddled in his lounge talking and laughing over everything and nothing while their meals got cold. As the evening wore on, Clara started teasing Matt over his taste in music, doubling over laughing at some of the titles he read out to her.

"What!" he cried. "How could you not know Merrilee Rush and the Turnabouts? Sunshine and Roses was a classic song!"

"Because I wasn't born in the sixties!" Clara laughed as he carefully placed the CD back on his special shelf. He'd told her that shelf was reserved only for his select favorites, although Clara quickly pointed out that his favorites appeared to include over half of his collection.

"Oh, have some culture, Clara!" he cried as he popped some artist named Ian Whitcomb into the stereo, handing her the CD case to read. "At least tell me you've heard of this song." Matt started to sway as the first beats of Ukulele Heroes filtered through the speakers.

She laughed from her place on the couch when he started yelling along with the lyrics.

"C'mon Clara, join me!" he urged, offering her his hand.

She shook her head. "Oh no, I think you can be embarrassed enough for the both of us."

"But I'm not embarrassed," he countered. "Come on!"

She glanced at her watch, and jumped up. "Oh crap! Sorry, but I really have to go."

He turned to pause the song. "Is this just a clever plan to get out of dancing? Because if it is, I'm ashamed—you could do much better."

"No, sorry, my Aunt Linda's probably starting to get furious with me. I told her I wouldn't be out too late," She hurriedly gathered her things and rushed for the door. "So…when would you like to do this again? Wednesday?"

Matt smiled. "Actually, I was rather looking forward to feeding ducks on Wednesday if it's all the same to you. Maybe Saturday?"

Clara smiled up at him. "Alright, sounds good, but I didn't peg you for a bloke who enjoys feeding ducks."

His smile softened. "I'm not. Actually, I've never gone duck watching in my life, but if that's what you want to do I think I can endure it."

Clara blinked. "Oh, no, I didn't want you to feel obligated. I was just teasing."

Matt huffed. "Clara, I don't just want to document you, I'd like to be your friend. If that's okay, of course." His eyes flashed with panic. "I don't want to come across as a stalker or something like that."

She laughed. "No worries, I'd like to be your friend too. I don't have many of those nowadays…" She trailed off when a heavy weight pressed down on her chest. Ever since her friends had heard about Clara being sent to an asylum they'd given her a wide berth. Nobody wanted her to have an "episode" while they were out having fun.

That had made Clara's blood boil. How could they claim to be her friends when they wouldn't stand by her? Sure, it was all fine and good when they thought she was depressed, but delusional? That's when they went running for the hills.

Some friends.

Matt gave her a soft grin. "I find that rather hard to believe."

Clara blushed and pulled on her coat. "Oh! I almost forgot," She pulled out some money, "For the takeout," she explained.

He pushed it away. "No, it's fine."

"I insist—"

"Its fine, Clara, friends buy each other meals sometimes. You can buy me dinner next time if it makes you feel any better." Matt chuckled

Clara blushed and shoved the money back into her pocket, "Sounds fair enough."

Matt grinned and turned to grab his coat. "Here, let me drive you home."

She shook her head when he pulled out his keys. "No, I couldn't. I'll just catch a taxi back."

Matt rolled his eyes and pulled her out by the elbow. "I'm not hearing that. I don't like the idea of you getting in a cab by yourself at this hour."

Clara hid her face to keep him from seeing her blush. He locked his door and pulled her back down the stairs to the street. The streetlights offered very little light under the moonless sky, a fine mist still coming down from the clouds. Clara shivered when the cold wind hit her again, and hurried after Matt as he unlocked his car.

"Brr!" he cried, and turned up the heater as soon as the ignition was on. "Now I'm sure winter is coming."

Clara laughed. "I always liked the cold, actually."

"You are nuts, aren't you?" Matt teased, glancing her way to make sure he hadn't offended her.

She let out a loud peal of laughter and smacked his arm. "That's mean!"

"Oi, don't send us off the road!" he shouted, swerving dramatically.

Clara rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you're a better driver than that, Matt."

"Do you drive?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I was going to, but they won't let me anymore. It makes sense really; I don't wanna be crashing because of things that aren't really there."

The car was quiet for a moment.

Matt pulled them up to the stop sign at the end of his street. "I almost forgot, where to?"

"My Aunt Linda lives on 46 Percival."

"Not too far then." He turned them in the right direction. "So…why don't you get on with your dad? If you don't mind me asking."

Clara shrugged. "I scare him. I think after my mum died he just didn't know how to handle my…situation. I think, in the way he sees it, he didn't just lose his wife in that crash."

Matt reached out to squeeze her hand. "I'm sorry."

She returned the gesture. "It's alright…so what about you; who's your family?"

He retracted his hand. "Well…I've lived with my adoptive family most of my life. Mum died when I was young, and dad was a deadbeat so I was shipped into foster care. My first foster home was where I met Amy and Jack, my best mates."

"I still don't quite believe you're friends with Amelia Williams." Clara muttered.

Matt rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't sound so reverent if you'd lived with her. Anyway, I met Dr. and Mrs. Tyler shortly after that, and here I am. I've got a sister named Jenny; she isn't by blood, but she grew up as the Tylers' daughter, and we view each other as siblings. Not a normal family, I guess, but calling her a sister made me feel like I was in one."

Clara looked over his face with new scrutiny. "What happened to your mum?"

Matt let out a tiny, bitter smile. "Bowties."

His use of the safe word made her eyes flutter with surprise as she was pulled back into the present. "Right, sorry. Inappropriate question, I didn't mean to pry."

"It's fine." Matt said before clearing his throat. "So, this whole obsession you have with ducks. How did that start?"

Clara smiled over his abrupt subject change. "I do not have an obsession with ducks."

"Yes you do," he countered.

"Do not!" she protested.

"Only someone with an obsession suggests feeding ducks as a fun thing to do."

"That is wildly untrue, children love feeding ducks."

He gave her a sideways glance. "Clara Oswald, are you implying that I'm a child?"

"I—no of course not!" Clara cried indignantly. "Although…never mind."

He raised an eyebrow. "Although what?"

She shook her head. "No, nope, not telling."

"Oh c'mon, don't do that to me! What?"

Clara giggled. "My lips are sealed!"

"Clara, if you don't believe I won't continuously drive this car around the block just to get a confession out of you then you are sadly mistaken." He gave her an overconfident smirk, sensing he'd found her weakness.

She gasped. "You wouldn't."

Matt's foot hovered over the gas pedal. "Would I?"

Clara stared him down until they started nearing her address. "Oh look, it's my stop. Sorry but I guess you lose this time…hey!" She shouted when they passed her aunt's flat. "Linda will kill me!"

Matt feigned an innocent expression. "Oh, was that your stop? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention. I'll just go around the block again."

She levelled a dark glare at him. "Matt Smith you take me to my aunt's right this second or so help me, I will tell the police you kidnapped me."

He shot her a panicked look, his body tensing up until he saw the teasing light in her eyes. He grinned then, and gasped loudly. "You wouldn't."

Clara wiggled her mobile in the air. "Would I?"

Matt let out a defeated sigh and turned them back onto her street. "Fine, you're the boss."

She felt one of her eyebrows shoot up. "Did you just call me the boss?"

He blinked. "What? No! No, I'm the boss, you're just…oh, whatever, you're impossible. An impossible girl, Clara Oswald, that's what you are."

Clara laughed as he pulled them up to the curb outside of her aunt's flat. "I'll see you on Wednesday, Chin Boy."

"Yeah, sure, don't forget to think up your word!"

She paused. "Right, one word to summarize my life, got it. Shouldn't be so hard."

Matt smiled and glanced over her shoulder. "I think your aunt's waiting."

Clara glanced back and saw her aunt glaring at her from her windows. When she looked down at her phone she saw twenty unanswered messages waiting for her, and it was well past midnight by now.

She groaned. "I gotta go."

He gave her a small salute. "Good luck with that one."

"Yeah." She huffed and slammed the car door.

Matt waited until she was safely inside to drive away, and Clara took a moment to lean up against the polished wood. Her mind was racing from today, her thoughts a jumbled mass inside her head that seemed to be on a repeated cycle.

"Clara Oswald, do you know what time it is?" Linda shouted as she marched down the hallway.

Clara sighed heavily. "I know; I'm sorry, we just lost track of time. It was my fault really; I should've kept a closer eye on it."

Her aunt glared at her, pulling the drawstrings of her robe in tighter. "You said you were going to call me and you didn't. You can't just disappear like that, Clara, what if you'd gotten into trouble?"

Clara glared at her. "I am an adult, Aunt Linda, I can fend for myself."

She snorted. "Yes, you're an adult, I know that, sweetheart. But you do need more supervision than most. That's why your pretty little doctor is making you live with me, isn't it?"

Clara shrank back, stung over her implications. "I'm going to bed."

"Don't you walk away from me!" Linda grabbed Clara's arm when she tried to snake past her. "This is my house, missy, and you will follow my rules. That means you must be home no later than eleven-thirty at night, got it?"

"I wasn't aware I had a curfew." Clara yanked her arm away and shoved past her aunt. "I'll keep it in mind."

"You better, or I'll put in a call to that Dr. Jones to make sure you don't get to see that Mr. Smith again," Linda hissed.

Clara whirled. "You wouldn't!"

A slow, cruel smile spread across her aunt's face. "Go on and test me."

With tears in her eyes, Clara spun around on her heel and ran for her room, slamming the door behind her. She threw her purse across the room, crying out with frustration as she flung herself onto her bed. Her aunt meant well, she knew that, but she could be so overbearing. Sometimes Clara wondered if Linda even saw her as a capable adult, able to make her own rational decisions. She knew she needed some supervision, but this was really pushing her on edge.

She angrily scrolled through her messages, deleting them one after another until a new one popped up on her screen.

* * *

**Received: 1:56 AM**

**Sorry about bringing you home so late, hope your aunt wasn't too harsh. I'm looking forward to Wednesday; don't forget to think about your word.**

**Sleep well, Impossible Girl.**

**-MS**


	5. Chapter 5: Family

**Thank you to all of the lovely readers and reviewers out there. You're all seriously wonderful.**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Family.**

Matt sucked in a deep breath, and took a small step into his study. He hadn't set foot in the room since the night he'd tried to listen to the first tape. He kept the door shut and locked it up tightly, wearing the key right next to her ring on a chain around his neck. Despite his promise to Clara that he would write the book Matt couldn't find it within himself to keep it. The room held too many memories that were only amplified by the sound of her voice over his crappy cassette-stereo speakers. Part of him—a rather large part if he admitted it to himself—felt guilty for not keeping up with his last promise to her.

Tonight he would change that.

Matt sat down in front of his typewriter, the right tape in his hands. With one more tremendous breath he slipped the cassette into the player and pressed play.

_"Whatever you __say, Chin Boy__."_

Her voice made his jaw tick; he could feel the tears stinging his eyelids but refused to allow them. He needed to focus; he had a promise to keep.

Matt forced himself to listen to the whole tape, occasionally smiling when he recalled a few of the more amusing facial expressions she'd sent his way. Listening to his own voice, Matt could see why Clara had found him fairly ridiculous. He sounded like a little kid, not that she was much better.

He smiled to himself when the tape finally stopped. For a moment, the silence of their flat seemed to be pressing down on him. Matt fought for air, fingers shaking when he went to rewind the tape. He could feel his heart racing, and a couple of the tears he had been successfully holding back slipped out of his eyes.

He let out a breath of relief when the cassette was finished rewinding, and pressed play. Matt closed his eyes and let her voice calm him for a moment, slowly taking in air through his nose and letting it out of his mouth.

He opened his eyes, and set to work on the very first page.

_Oswin was your average teenage girl who…_

Matt paused, and crossed out the words he'd just typed. They were fine, but not quite what he wanted the opening to be. He bit his lip, and straightened up to start again.

_Jack Pond had never met someone who could light up his life like…_

He growled in frustration and yanked the paper out to throw it away. It still wasn't right. The story wasn't about him it was about Clara—Oswin.

Matt sat staring into space for a moment. His eyes came to rest on her chair, and that's when the line came to him. He straightened back up, and poised his fingers over the keys once more.

_Hello. _He typed_. I'm the impossible girl._

He paused.

_Why might you ask? Well it's simple really. I guess you could say it all started one day when I met a boy. A boy named Jack Pond._

_Why is that important?_

Matt sat back and chewed his lip, searching for the next line. His eyes lit up when it came to him, and his fingers flashed across his keys.

_It's important because, by all rights, I should have scared him away. Jack Pond should have run for the hills the moment I opened my mouth, but he didn't. Instead, he stayed in the small café where I spilled tea all over him and we talked until the barista kicked us out._

_Now I know what you're thinking, why would that make him run?_

_Well, it wouldn't, but you're all missing one very important piece of information. Allow me to clarify by properly introducing myself._

_Hello. My name is Oswin, and I'm a schizophrenic._

_And this?_

_This is my story._

* * *

It was later—much later, Matt concluded—when he called Amy. He'd always held a special connection with the fiery Scottish woman, even going so far as calling her his best friend, and if there was ever a time that Matt needed someone like her it was tonight.

His eyes drifted to the bottles he kept locked up in a small cabinet in his kitchen. He bit his lip, weighing the pros and cons of opening one. Just one bottle wouldn't hurt too much, would it?

Matt shook his head as the phone rang—that was his father's logic talking.

"Hello?" A gruff voice answered the phone.

"Amy?" Matt's voice barely came out in a whisper, and he clenched his fist to hold himself together.

"Matt?" He heard her tone become alarmed. "What is it, are you in trouble? Are you hurt?"

Matt pulled in a shaky breath and rubbed a hand across his face. "No I…no, I'm fine. Sorry to bother you this late, don't know why I even called."

"Matt where are you? I'm coming 'round."

"No, don't do that, just go back to sleep. I'll be fine; I just need to go to bed." He prayed she would believe his lie and hang up; he was starting to feel embarrassed for even calling. Amy didn't need him to be clingy at all hours of the night.

"Don't be an idiot, where are you?" Her tone left no room for argument.

Matt sighed heavily. "At home, but you should just go back to sleep, Amelia, it's late."

She barked a laugh. "Do you really think I'll be able to sleep now? Stay put, I'll be there in a half hour."

"No, Amy—" Matt tried, but she had already hung up.

He let out a loud huff and hung his head back. What was he thinking? The last thing he needed right now was someone's sympathy.

Matt had insisted over the months since Clara's—since her accident, that everyone treat him normally. He had refused any special treatment besides the respects of those who had attended her…

No, he couldn't even bring himself to think the word.

Matt didn't quite know how it happened, but somehow he'd managed to wind up back in his study with a bottle of scotch in his hands. He blinked, staring down at the bottle that had been a wedding present from Jack, and shoved it away.

He sat staring at her armchair until his doorbell rang. With a tremendous sigh, Matt hauled himself to his feet and shuffled to let Amy in.

The second she had entered his apartment, Amy pulled Matt in for a tight hug.

He hugged her back, burying his face in her hair to breath in her soothing scent.

She rubbed his back. "Oh my Raggedy Man…how are you feeling? You were scaring me over the phone." She pulled away to search his eyes.

Matt shied away from her scrutiny. "I'm fine, Amy; I told you that you didn't need to come all the way out here. You should be asleep."

"Well tough," she retorted. "I'm here now, so why don't you make me some tea?"

He rolled his eyes. "Typical Pond," he took a few steps towards the kitchen. "Peppermint or chamomile?"

She grinned. "Peppermint, please."

Matt went back into the kitchen to prepare their tea, only coming out once he had two steaming mugs in his hands.

Amy smiled at him from her place on the couch. "Thanks, Matt."

He gave her a small smile of his own and plopped down beside her. They both took a moment to sip on their tea, and the hot steam felt refreshing on Matt's sweaty face. The warm smell of the drink calmed him a little, and he closed his eyes.

He opened them again when he felt a hand on his arm. Amy's eyes were full of concern as she gave that arm a little squeeze. "You scared me tonight."

Matt swallowed, and reached for her hand. "I know."

They sat in silence, and by the look she was giving him Matt wondered if Amy expected him to apologize. He stared her down, squeezing her hand when the silence started to get uncomfortable.

As if she could read his mind, his best friend's eyes softened. "I'm not asking you to apologize, Matt."

That did it. Matt felt the tears well up and threaten to choke him. He squeezed her hand even tighter, shutting his eyes and bowing his head. Amy stayed very still when he pulled in a breath that hitched in his throat. He knew what was coming—he had been holding it back for a while now. It was a grief so great and powerful it threatened to press him down into the floor, crushing him into tiny pieces.

His shoulders shuddered, and Matt sobbed.

"Shh." Amy scooted over to wrap her arm around his shoulders, giving them a squeeze and kissing the top of his head. "Let it out, Matt."

He felt her rub his arm and clung to her small waist, burying his face in her hair.

Matt's grief did not come out in loud wails that pierced his ears and shook the very frame of the house. Nor did it make him violently shake and flail around. His sobs got caught halfway up his throat, causing them to barely escape his mouth in a way that made him sound like he was being strangled. Gravity pushed against his whole body, making every one of his joints lock into place. He curled in on himself, nearly crushing Amy in his desperate attempt to hold himself in one piece.

Amy, his wonderful Amelia Pond, only kissed his cheek and let him crush her. "I'm here. I miss her too."

Matt heard the tears in her voice, and brought a hand up to the back of her head. They stayed like that for a long time, holding themselves together while the hushed room seemed to give up on its desire to choke them.

Matt gradually started to feel the restriction on his throat relax, and after a while he began to pull in deeper breaths. Amy followed his example, finally pulling away with a small smile.

Matt wiped away a stray tear on her cheek, and she rewarded him by widening that smile. She took his face into her hands, using the pads of her thumbs to wipe at his tears.

"You are not alone," she told him with a forceful tone. "Not ever, do you understand?"

He swallowed, and gave her a small nod.

Amy leaned forward and kissed his forehead gently. "Do you want me to stay?"

Matt reached up to capture one of the hands she still held against his cheek. "If it's not too much to ask."

She only grinned and pulled out her mobile. "Just let me send off a text to Rory."

Matt nodded, picking up his now cold tea and taking another large sip on his way back into the study. He stopped in the doorway, and stared at her chair again. He could still see her sitting there—smiling at him with that special smirk only she seemed to be able to master.

_"I thought up my word." She whispered, and laughed without humor._

_Matt was furiously trying to hail a taxi while Amy called emergency services. "Well that's good; you can tell me when I get to you."_

_"No Mattie." Clara murmured. "I left something for you, in your desk drawer…"_

"What's that?" Amelia asked as she entered the study.

Matt nearly dropped the tape he was holding. He cleared his throat loudly, holding back fresh tears. "It's a—something Clara gave to me, before…"

Amy swallowed. "Are you gonna play it or just stare at it all night?"

He looked down at the cassette in his hands for another moment, before sucking in a sharp breath and shoving it back into his desk drawer. "Not tonight."

Matt kept his eyes firmly on his desk when Amy came up behind him to squeeze his shoulders. "Come on, Raggedy Man, it's late."

He nodded, and let her lead him up to his bed. She laid out his pajamas for him, and then quietly exited the room. He stared at the back of his door for a long moment, listening to the small clock tick beside his bed.

Matt sighed heavily, and closed his eyes.

* * *

He woke in a fog the next morning, groaning softly and reaching out with one arm to wrap it around his wife's waist, a smile on his lips.

Matt sat straight up when his arm found an empty space. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face. Three months had almost passed since her accident, and yet Matt would still find himself making these mistakes. He would turn to ask her what she wanted for breakfast and find an empty room, or reach to grab her hand only to be met with a gaping hole by his side.

He took in a deep breath through his nose, and shuffled downstairs to see if Amy had left yet. He felt a small smile curl around his lips when he caught sight of her vibrant hair peaking up from a mass of blankets on his sofa.

Amy mumbled in her sleep and rolled over, nearly falling off of the tiny piece of furniture. Matt chuckled under his breath and tiptoed into the kitchen, busying himself by attempting to wash a couple of the many dirty dishes stacked up by his sink.

He tested the water and added soap, staring into space as the sink filled up. He waited until the bubbles were at a reasonable level to turn the water off. Pulling out a brand new sponge, Matt began to furiously scrub at the dishes. The soap clung to his arms and sent stinging needles into his skin, but he ignored the sensation. He picked up a knife and began to furiously attack the specks of food on its blade. He stopped, and turned it over in his hands, watching the light reflect off of its surface with a strange fascination.

He didn't hear it when Amy entered the kitchen. "Matt?"

Matt jumped, dropping the knife into the sink. He turned and gave her a smile that was only a bit too wide. "Morning, Pond! Care to help?"

He could see the worry she was trying to conceal written all over her face as she all but shoved him out of the way. "You go sit down; I'll take care of this."

He didn't argue, only nodding as he turned to sit in one of the chairs around the small kitchen table.

"So what do you have planned for today?" Amy asked after a couple minutes of a silence broken only by the sounds of dishes clanking together.

Matt shrugged. "I dunno, write maybe. I was thinking about going back to work soon."

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "There's no rush, Matt. Jack told me your boss is fine with you taking your time."

He sighed heavily. "That's the thing, Amy—if I don't go back now, I won't go back at all."

She nodded. "Okay, but take it easy, yeah?"

Matt rolled his eyes. "Yes mum." She stuck her tongue out at him and he let out a small chuckle. "What are your plans, Amy?"

She shrugged. "I have to go to work soon. Are you gonna be okay?" She sent him a worried look as she unplugged the drain and dried her hands.

He gave her a soft smile. "I'm always okay."

Amy didn't look convinced. "I called your sister. I don't want you alone today."

Matt groaned. "Why did you do that? I told you I don't want Jenny involved."

Amy gave him a glare. "Matt, she may not be related to you but she's still your sister. You two used to be attached at the hip before—before…" She faltered.

"Exactly, before," Matt let his head fall in his hands. "It's not that I don't want to see Jenny, it's just…I have to protect her, Amy. She can't see me fall apart like this."

He felt a hand rest on his shoulder and glanced up. "I hate to burst your bubble there, Raggedy Man, but she's already seen you fall apart like this. You need her—you need them. Spend a weekend with them. They're worried you know. Rory and I keep getting voicemails because you won't answer their calls."

Matt huffed. "I know; I know they're worried. It's just…ever since the—the funeral, it's gotten harder and harder to face them."

Her eyes took on a light of understanding. "I know Matt, believe me, but you can't hide from them forever. You need them to help you; they're the only ones who can." He opened his mouth to protest but she stopped him with a finger. "I know what you're going to say, but no. Jack and I may be your closest friends, but we can never be family for you, not like they can."

He closed his mouth, and nodded. He worried that admitting that fact would hurt Amy, but she only gave him a soft smile of encouragement.

"You're lucky to have them, Matt. Don't push them away now," she murmured, and kissed the top of his head.

He blushed, a bit ashamed of himself. Amy had never had the opportunity of a real family. She had him, Jack and Rory, but she had never been adopted like Matt had and she'd never met her real parents.

"I've got to go," she said with a sigh and walked back into his lounge to gather her things. "At least call them, yeah? Promise?"

Matt nodded and held up his hand. "Scout's honor."

She gave him a smile and hurried out of the door. "Love you, Matt. See you soon."

He smiled when she shut the door a little too hard in her hurry to get to work on time.

"Yeah, love you too."

Matt jumped when his mobile rang. He glanced at the caller ID and pulled in a deep breath, answering the call and pressing the phone to his ear. "Hi, Jenny."

"John." Her voice sounded anxious. "Where are you?"

"I'm at home, but I'm actually thinking about heading over to Mum and Dad's; could you give them a ring for me?" He hurried up the stairs to pack an overnight bag, tossing items into it carelessly.

"Sure." Jenny sounded as though she'd let out a breath of relief. "I think Dad's working today, but Mum should be home. I'll meet you there."

"'Kay, thanks Jen," he said, and hung up the phone.

Matt drove himself over to his parent's house. They lived just outside of the city now, only an hour or two away from his flat if he took the motorway. Their house was a modest cottage set up on a small piece of land with few neighbors in sight. Only a few yards away from the house a small beach could be reached by climbing down a flight of precarious rusting steps.

Jenny's car was already parked in front of the house when Matt pulled up, and he bit his lip. Maybe coming here wasn't such a good idea after all. He glanced at the passenger's seat where a copy of the first draft of his first chapter lay in a protective cover. He'd promised his mum that he'd bring it for her, but now he wasn't so sure he wanted them to read it. It was personal, after all.

Sod it, he thought, and stuffed the manuscript into his bag. If he was going to publish this story he would need someone to edit it for him, and besides Amy or Jack, there wasn't anyone else he trusted to read it.

His mum had the door open before he could even knock. "You made it," she said, and reached forward to pull him into a tight hug.

Matt smiled and returned the hug. "Yeah, course I did."

She pulled away to smile at him, brushing a bit of his floppy hair out of his eyes. "You need a haircut."

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly at her comment. She was always teasing him about his hair, but Matt knew she never meant anything by it. He didn't believe his mum had a mean bone in her body.

"Is Dad home?" His voice croaked, and he struggled to clear it.

Rose nodded, and moved to let him in. "He and Jenny are in the lounge. Here, let me take that." She pulled his bag out of his hands and plopped it down by the door.

Matt shifted on his feet, waiting for her to go first.

She raised her eyebrows. "Well, what are you dawdling for? Go in."

Matt smiled to himself as he passed her; the house looked exactly the same as when he'd last seen it. Everything was scattered about as if a tornado was constantly whirling around the house, and Matt had always liked it that way. It made him feel at home.

Home. That was a word hard to define these days.

David and Jenny both looked up from an earnest conversation when he entered. Matt smiled hesitantly and offered them a small wave. "Hello, gang."

He was surprised when Jenny lurched to her feet and tackled him in a hug. He only hesitated for a moment before hugging her back, giving her a tight squeeze.

"I worried about you, Johnny boy," she murmured.

Matt gave her a half smile. "I'm fine, Jen. Honest."

Jenny kissed his cheek and glanced over her shoulder at David. "I'll just…go help Mum with dinner."

David stood as she closed the door behind her. The two of them took a moment to stare at the other until David opened his arms wide. Immediately, Matt accepted his embrace, allowing himself to be held like a child for a moment.

"How are you really?" his dad whispered.

Matt swallowed as they broke apart. "Depends on the day."

David gave him a knowing look, nodding. "Amy called us a few hours ago. She really sounded worried, Matt. It scared your mum and sister half to death."

Matt lowered his eyes to the floor and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Well, Amy may have stopped me from making a few bad decisions last night, but I would have survived."

His dad gave him a sympathetic look. "You make sure to call one of us next time, yeah? Don't be alone."

Matt sighed heavily but made eye contact with David. "I promise, Dad."

David clapped him on the back. "Good man. Now c'mon, we should go help out the girls. Allons-y." He gave Matt a grin as they followed the sounds and smells of cooking. Jenny and Rose were chattering away as they prepared what appeared to be some kind of soup.

As soon as he was in the kitchen, Rose presented Matt with a bowl of yellow cream that had golden fish fingers sticking out of the sides. "Here you go, I made it special for yah." She gave him her hopeful tongue-in-cheek smile.

Matt took the bowl gratefully and kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Mum."

Her eyes flooded with warmth when he sat down to eat his favorite snack. David walked up behind Rose, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her cheek. "I still don't know how you can manage to force that stuff down, Matt."

Matt frowned. "Oi! Says the man whose goal in life is to find a way to put bananas in every single meal." He took a large bite off of a fish finger and licked his lips. "Ah, delicious."

Jenny wrinkled her nose. "How did you even think to combine those, anyway?"

Matt swallowed. "I already told you, there wasn't a lot to eat when I lived with Paul; sometimes my mother and I survived off of this stuff."

The room was quiet for a moment. Matt knew they always felt a bit uncomfortable when he brought up his birthparents so blatantly—he couldn't blame them—but there was something a bit off about the way they all looked away from him. It was almost as if they felt awkward making eye contact with him.

David cleared his throat and released Rose. "So, Matt, Amy told us you have the first chapter of your book done."

He nodded. "I have it actually, if any of you would like a first look."

Jenny bounced up and down on her heels. "Oh please? Please, please, please, Johnny?"

He laughed and hauled himself to his feet. "Let me just go and get it." He snatched the bowl of custard. "And I'm taking this with me, so you don't get any ideas." He pointed a finger at all of them playfully as he backed out of the kitchen.

Matt spun on one heel and marched over to where his bag was still sitting by the front door. He reluctantly set his bowl of custard down and rummaged through the duffel until he found the manuscript. With a groan he pulled himself back up and started for the kitchen.

Matt heard whispering, and paused just outside of the door.

"Should we tell him?" Jenny muttered.

"I feel like we should, but…" Rose trailed off and sighed. "I don't know, maybe now's not the right time."

"Rose, Matt's an adult now. He has a right to know they released his father, even if he doesn't want to see him," David said rationally.

Matt's blood ran cold and both the bowl and his manuscript went tumbling to the floor in one loud clatter.

All noise in the other room ceased, and it was as if all three of them were holding their breath.

Slowly, he stepped into the kitchen with shock frozen on his face. "Paul is…"

Rose stepped forward, her eyes downcast and her shoulders curled inward. "His lawyer contacted us a couple of days ago. They released him this morning on parole…he wants to see you, Matt."

"We told him it was up to you," David said quickly when he saw the dark anger forming in Matt's eyes. "Like I said a moment ago, you're an adult now; you can make your own decisions."

Matt could feel his whole frame was shaking and he clenched his fists in an attempt to keep some kind of self-control. "Did you…?"

Jenny hesitantly handed him a small slip of paper. "That's the address, if you want to see him."

Without having to think about it, Matt snatched the paper and marched right up to the sink. Everyone kept their eyes firmly off of him as he stuffed it down the drain and flipped on the garbage disposal.

He turned off the machine and gripped the edge of the counter with tight fists, taking in deep breaths to calm himself.

Matt flinched when he felt David's hand on his shoulder. "That's what we thought you would say, but if you ever change your mind..."

Matt shrugged his hand off and half ran out of the kitchen. He grabbed his bag and ran up the stairs for his room. He tossed it onto his bed and slammed the door, letting out a breath as soon as it was closed.

Matt sank down to the floor and let his head fall into his hands. It was too much; all of this was just too much for him right now. He was just so tired—the kind of exhausted that was rooted deep down in your bones.

Clara. He wanted Clara right now. She would know just what to say to him, just what to do. She would be up here sitting beside him, an arm around his shoulders.

The hole in his chest tore into him again and he allowed his tears to fall again.

_"I'm here; just tell me what you need."_

"You," he whimpered. "I need you."

* * *

Matt's family spent the rest of that weekend tiptoeing around him, trying to avoid conversations likely to set him off. It had been exactly what he was afraid of; he didn't want them to feel like they had to watch every little thing they said. That wasn't fair; not just to them, but to him as well.

That's why he was so grateful for David. His adopted father knew exactly how Matt was feeling, or at least close to how he felt. He'd already gone through the same grieving process Matt was facing now, and for that Matt was relieved. It meant David knew just how to treat him; normally.

The drive back to Matt's flat was long and uneventful. He'd left his manuscript back with his family for review, and felt a nervous flutter when he thought of what they might say. Jenny had already begun to read it, and hadn't stopped praising Matt since then.

He smiled faintly. Despite the endless amount of annoying energy Jenny possessed, he had always loved her enthusiastic approach to life. He often found himself jealous of her, wishing he could view the world through such a positive scope.

"If only, if only," he muttered under his breath.

Matt swallowed when his thoughts shifted down a less pleasant path. His father…what was he going to do about him? No matter how much he would like to, Matt couldn't just ignore him forever. He had to see him once, if only to get some type of closure for himself.

There were many things he wanted to say to Paul, most of which ended in scenarios that landed Matt in jail for a long period of time.

Half way back to his apartment, Matt stopped, pulling out his mobile and dialing David's number.

"Did you forget something?" David's answer was teasing.

"You could say that…do you still have a copy of that address?" Matt's voice cracked, and he bit his lip.

David was quiet for a long moment. "Sure, Matt, hold on."

Almost a half hour later Matt found himself sitting in his car outside of a small apartment complex not far from where he used to live, back when he was with Paul.

Matt's breath caught when his father stepped out of the building to dispose of his trash. Paul didn't look too different, maybe a bit healthier—his eyes less bloodshot and his skin not as grey as it used to be, but other than that the only difference Matt could see was age. His father looked far older than he should, with only a few grey hairs straggling out on his head and a scruffy, almost all white beard.

That face brought up far too many memories for Matt, and he hastily started his engine to drive away from the apartment, unnecessarily rolling up his windows as if he could block Paul's view somehow.

Fear clenched around his heart when his father caught sight of him. Paul blinked, his eyes taking on a sad look as Matt sped away from him.

Matt kept his foot on the gas all the way back to his flat. He couldn't do this, not now, maybe not ever.

He tossed his keys onto his desk carelessly as he stumbled into the study. He shuffled over to his landline, which was alerting him that he had two new voice messages, and pressed play.

"Um, hi, Matt, it's Amy. Rory and I just heard about your father, and we want you to know we're here for you. Anytime you want to talk, just give us a ring, yeah? Okay, that's it, I'm getting off now." The message ended.

Matt sighed and rubbed his face with his hands.

The machine beeped again. "Hey there, Doc, it's Jack here. I'm just calling because I heard about your father, man, and I want you to call me ASAP after you get this. We need to talk."

Matt huffed and deleted the messages. He loved his friends, he really did, but right now what he needed was space to breathe.

He opened his desk drawer, and slowly pulled out the tape from the previous night: her final tape. He'd never had the courage to listen because if he listened—if he finally discovered what her word was—it would be the end. It would mean he accepted her death, and he would never do that. Not ever.

Matt sighed and carefully placed the tape back into its drawer. He stepped out of the study and shut it tightly, locking it and hanging the key around his neck. He shivered when his fingers brushed against the cool metal of her ring before hiding the chain back under his shirt.

Maybe he would find it within himself to forgive both Clara and Paul. One day Matt might be able to find it within himself to let go, allowing them both to drift away into his past. He would never forget, no, but maybe one day he could forgive.

But not tonight.


	6. Chapter 6: Panic

**Chapter 5: Panic.**

Clara fidgeted with her skirt as her taxi driver lazily made his way through heavy Wednesday traffic. She didn't understand why she was so nervous; it wasn't as though she was on her way to a date or anything, this was Matt she was talking about.

They'd held this tradition for a couple of weeks by now. Every Saturday afternoon Clara would come over to his flat and he would interview her for his book, and then on Wednesday the two of them would head over to the park to feed the ducks. While Clara loved Saturdays, Wednesdays were her favorites. These were the days when he wasn't the journalist, and she wasn't the nutter. These were the days she got to learn who Matt Smith really was.

By now, she knew his favorite color was a deep blue. He'd tried to describe the exact shade to her on many of their Wednesdays together, but by the third detailed lecture on the "ultimate blue" Clara would divert the conversation away from colors.

She knew he had a sister named Jenny, and that his adoptive parents' names were David and Rose Tyler. She knew his real father's name was Paul Smith, and that his mother's name was May. He didn't like to talk about her very much, and Clara never pressed him for information. She could tell by the way his lips would tighten when he spoke about her that his mother was a sensitive subject.

Today would mark the anniversary of the first month of their friendship. Not that Clara was counting, but it had been the longest friendship she'd experienced since her accident.

She took in a deep breath when the cab stopped, paying the driver quickly and turning to face the café. The streetlamps were just barely starting to come on, and it was raining again. Clara bit her lip and, after gathering her courage, marched up to the front doors with determination. They were just friends; she told herself, doing this was fine even if her Aunt Linda didn't approve.

Her aunt had put up an extra fight today when she found out Clara was going out to meet with Matt again. She didn't like him, and wasn't afraid of letting Clara know that fact.

_"He's just using you,"_ she would say to Clara with arrogance in her voice. _"Trying to put you in a more relaxed situation to loosen you up and get more information out of you. He doesn't want to be your friend; he just wants a good story. Or worse." _

Clara would glare at her. _"What do you know? Have you ever met him?"_

_"I don't have __to meet him,"_ Linda stated calmly. _"It's rather obvious, Clara, use your common sense. He's a journalist, sweetheart—it's what they do."_

She rolled her eyes and grabbed her purse. _"I'll be back soon, don't wait up."_

Clara couldn't help the wide grin that overtook her face when Matt first came into view. He was waiting on one of the barstools, a bag of what appeared to be old bread beside him and an untouched coffee mug. His leg was bouncing up and down with a nervous energy, which made Clara's smile widen even more.

As soon as he saw her he smiled. "Clara! What a coincidence seeing you here."

She rolled her eyes and played along. "Isn't it? Oh and look, you've brought bread and everything."

He smiled warmly and stood, "Ready to feed some ducks?"

Clara took his offered arm with a beaming grin. "Shall we?"

They walked out of the café to his car chattering and laughing about trivial things. Matt kept flapping his arms around to punctuate his sentences, and every time he clapped his hands together Clara couldn't help but let out a fresh peal of laughter.

She took his arm again when he helped her out of the car, and they started on the walk across the street to get to the park.

"So, Clara, tell me." He grinned at her.

She raised an eyebrow. "Tell you what?"

Matt blinked, as if he had forgotten he was supposed to follow up with a question. "Tell me, what are your ambitions? What do you want out of life?"

A slow smile spread across her face. "Well…this is going to sound silly, but when I was younger I always wanted to be an actress, I made my mum and dad sign me up for classes and everything."

Matt let out a wide grin, "Really? I had you pegged for something more like a nanny or a barmaid."

Clara gave him an incredulous look, "A barmaid?"

He shrugged. "What do you want to be now?"

She blushed. "Well…I was a nanny once, and I like working with children, so now I want to be a—"

Clara's sentence was cut off by the loud squeal of tires on pavement. She stopped in her tracks, her heart jumping into her throat when she heard the unmistakable sound of two cars crashing into each other. Slowly, she turned and caught sight of a familiar car crunched into someone else's in the middle of an intersection.

Without thinking, she took off.

"Mum!" she screamed.

"Clara!" Matt cried as he tried to pull her back. "Clara where are you going?"

She heard sirens in the distance, could see the bright flash of the blue lights as the police arrived on the scene, but all she could focus on was getting to her mother's car. If Clara could just get to her she would be able to save her this time, she knew it.

Clara fought when she felt two strong hands grab onto her arm. "No, stop! I need to get to her, I need to save her!"

"Clara, Clara calm down, who do you need to save?" Matt had a tight hold on her wrists, forcing her to face him.

Tears were streaming down her face now, "My mum! She's in that car, I need to save her."

"Clara, your mum's dead, you told me that. Remember?" He gave her a concerned look.

She froze, "W-what?"

"You told me your mum died in a crash during our session on Saturday, do you remember that?" He loosened his hold on her wrists, rubbing the sore spots so she wouldn't bruise.

She turned back to face the crash with wide eyes, looking over it again just to be sure. Clara's breath stopped when two Paramedics lifted a man out of her mother's car onto a stretcher. But it wasn't her mother's car, and this wasn't that accident.

She sniffed and wiped her eyes. She could feel a warm blush creep up her cheeks as she turned back to face Matt. He probably wouldn't want to talk to her again after this, she was sure. She'd probably scared him away, just like she did with everyone else.

"I'm sorry, Matt," she whispered and hung her head so he couldn't meet her eyes.

One hand gently brought her chin up so she would face him. "Do you want to go back to my place? I could make us a warm cuppa, and we can talk. If you want to talk, that is."

Clara swallowed, and nodded. "Sounds good."

Matt gave her a slight smile and offered her his arm again. "Shall we?"

She took his arm and allowed him to lead her back to the car. Matt made sure to help her back into her side before quickly jogging around to start the engine.

The ride over to his flat was a quiet one, but Clara was too lost in her own mind to care about that. She saw Matt glancing over her every now and then with a worried light in his eyes, but she didn't try to explain.

She jumped when he took her hand. "I'm here, Clara."

Clara blinked, and nodded. "I know."

"You know nothing you say tonight will go on record. Today you and I are just two friends, not the journalist and the…the muse. You can tell me anything you want to." He parked the car and turned his upper body to fully face her.

"I don't want to frighten you." She whispered.

Matt gave her a sad smile. "Trust me when I say this, Clara: there is absolutely nothing you could tell me that would scare me away. I'm not going anywhere."

Clara gave him a small smile as they both stepped out of the car. He placed a hand on her back as they both walked up to his flat in a much more comfortable silence than the one before. Matt unlocked the door and ushered them inside.

She rubbed her arms in an attempt to get rid of the goosebumps that were crawling across her skin. He tossed his jacket onto a coat rack on his way to the kitchen. "Do you want the usual?"

"Sure!" she called back, and sat down on the couch after shedding off her jacket.

A few minutes later, Matt came out with two hot cups of peppermint tea. Clara smiled as she gratefully took the warm mug in between her hands. "Thank you."

He grinned. "No problem."

They sipped on their drinks for a moment.

"So…do you want to tell me what happened back there?" Matt asked quietly.

Clara swallowed her tea and looked down at her hands wrapped around the warm mug. "I really am sorry about that."

He shook his head. "Clara, you don't need to apologize to me, I'd just like to know if this is something I should be on the lookout for. I want to know what you want me to do if it happens again."

"It's never happened before." She whispered.

Matt reached out and swiped a stray tear away from her cheek. "Hey, what is it?"

Clara met his eyes, biting her lip as she considered telling him the truth.

"Bowties."

He blinked, a little taken back by her sudden use of their safe word. Neither of them had ever used it on Wednesdays, it was almost an unspoken rule, but the word had slipped out of Clara's mouth before she had a chance to stop it.

"Okay," Matt said slowly.

"No, sorry I…" She trailed off, fighting the frustrated tears that were stinging the backs of her eyelids.

"No it's alright, really." Matt said, but she could see the frustration in the back of his eyes.

"I want to tell you." Clara murmured, and took in a deep breath. "I just don't know if I should."

She glanced up when one of his hands covered hers. "It's fine; I don't expect you to completely trust me right away. If you want to tell me, you can, but you don't have to right now."

Clara searched his face for a moment, finding only an open understanding written in his features. Without thinking she reached out and brushed away a lock of his wild hair that was threatening to fall into his eye.

She gave him a soft smile. "Maybe not tonight."

He nodded and glanced at his watch. "Well, what would you like to do? It's only just 7 now."

Clara glanced over at his stack of DVDs. "Do you mind if we have a quiet night in? You could show me one of those movies you've insisted I watch."

He grinned and jumped to his feet. When she had admitted to Matt that she didn't watch movies he had reacted by giving her a look of pure horror. Ever since then he'd been teasing Clara about her lack of culture.

"If you want to choose one I'll go make us some popcorn." Matt helped her to her feet and dashed away to his kitchen. Clara sent him a fond smile and slowly made her way over to do as he asked.

Clara was immediately overwhelmed with the amount of choices she was presented with. Matt owned everything from _Young Frankenstein_ to _The Hunger Games._

She jumped when she felt a hand on her arm. Spinning around on her heel, Clara prepared herself to scold Matt for scaring her, but was met only with empty space. She blinked, confused, and went in search of him.

"Matt?" she called.

"Yes?" He poked his head out from the kitchen. "Did you pick one already?"

She cleared her throat. "No, ah…were you out here just a second ago?"

His brow crinkled. "No…why, did you hear something?"

A cold feeling settled in the pit of Clara's stomach and she quickly shook her head. "No, no, I must've been imagining things." She let out a nervous laugh and reached out to grab a random DVD. "This looks good."

Matt came closer and took the movie from her, raising an eyebrow when he read the title. "I didn't peg you for a Jaws fan."

She shrugged. "Well, at least it's one I've heard of."

He let out a loud gust of breath. "Okay, well how about I set it up while you go fetch the popcorn, ay?"

Clara nodded quickly and scurried into the kitchen. She could still feel her hands shaking after what happened in the lounge. She stopped, letting her hands fall on the sink as she thought back to make sure she'd taken her pills this morning.

She hadn't realized the room was spinning until her knees gave out from under her.

"Clara!" Matt came rushing in and caught her just before her head could crack against the corner of his table. "Clara, what is it, can you hear me? What's wrong? Clara? Clara?"

She looked up at him through the haze of her vision, trying desperately to calm herself.

"Hey, hey, it's alright." He pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her tightly. "You're safe Clara, just breathe. C'mon, breathe with me." He sucked in a large breath, making sure that Clara copied him.

They breathed out together, and Clara felt her heart starting to slow.

"That's it Clara, just breathe with me." Matt pulled in another large breath and gave her a warm smile. "Did I ever tell you about the time Jack killed Amy's goldfish?"

Clara gave him a confused look and shook her head.

He grinned. "Well, Amy was out with Rory and the two of us had the house all to ourselves. So, us being…well, us, Jack thought it would be a great idea to play football. There was one problem with his plan, however: it was pouring rain outside, and Carroll would be furious with both of us if we so much as got a scrap of mud on her carpet." He paused to take a breath. "So, Jack suggested we play inside. Well, one thing led to another and somehow the ball ended up flying through Amy's bedroom door straight into the goldfish bowl."

Clara felt a weak smile forming on her face. "What happened next?"

Matt grinned. "Well, we both knew that if Amy ever found out we killed Mr. Bubbles she'd skin us alive. You'd like Amy by the way; I should make sure you both meet someday… Anyway! Jack drove to the pet shop while I cleaned up the mess and disposed of the now very dead Mr. Bubbles. He got back with only minutes to spare, so we quickly filled the bowl with water tossed the gravel in and added the fish. Amy never suspected a thing."

They stared at each other for a moment until Clara felt the tremors in her hands starting to fade.

"Better?" Matt whispered.

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Want to sit up?"

"Yeah," Clara allowed him to help her into an upright position, blushing when she realized just how close they were. He stood to get her a glass of water before leaning next to her on the cabinets. Clara took the drink gratefully, gulping down the cold liquid in small mouthfuls.

She glanced over at him. "How did you know what to do?"

Matt blinked, looking like she had just pulled him out of some deep reverie. "Um…Mum used to have them sometimes and I would be the one who had to calm her down."

Clara searched the side of his face for a moment. Matt rarely spoke about his mum, and when he did he tried to brush the subject off as quickly as possible. It made Clara all the more curious to know what had happened to her.

She took Matt's hand. He jumped with surprise and glanced up at her again. She smiled softly. "Thank you, Matt."

He gave her his trademark grin and gripped her hand tightly. "Any time, Clara Oswald."

They sat smiling at each other for a moment until Matt stood, hauling her up after him, "Right! Movie?"

Clara sighed. "I suppose so."

He laughed at her reaction, grabbing the bowl of popcorn on their way back out into the living room. "Oh come on, Clara, have some culture."

She smiled at his joke and settled herself on his couch as he started up the film.

Clara really did try to watch the movie, she really did, but after ten minutes she started to feel her eyelids drooping. She felt Matt wrap his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side when she started to sink deeper into the couch. She settled herself against his side, resting her head on his shoulder while she tried to make sense of the story that was playing out in front of her.

By the time the Great Shark had made its second appearance, Clara was fast asleep.

* * *

Clara woke the next morning in an unfamiliar bed. The room looked sparse, with only the bare necessities crammed into the small space. The sheets smelled like no one had ever slept in this room and the clock on the nightstand read 7:30.

Crap.

She jumped straight out of the bed, a tad bit relieved when she found herself still in the same clothes she'd worn yesterday. Yanking on her shoes and grabbing her phone she saw she had ten unanswered messages from the night before.

"Shit," she muttered as she scrolled through the text messages from Linda that became increasingly ugly as they progressed.

Clara finally tossed her phone onto the bed and held her head in her hands.

She didn't look up when she heard a knock at the door.

"Clara, it's me, can I come in?" Matt's voice sounded far too cheerful for Clara's liking.

She rubbed at her eyes and sucked in a sharp breath. "Sure."

He hesitated on the other side of the door for a moment before cautiously opening it to poke his head into the room. "Good morning."

Clara didn't smile. "I stayed all night."

Matt gave her a sheepish look. "Yeah, you did."

"You didn't think to wake me?" Her voice was edging on angry at this point.

He blushed. "Well by the time I woke up it was three in the morning. In my defense, I did try to shake you awake but you're a hard sleeper."

Clara sighed, and felt all of her irritation flood out of her system. "My aunt is going to kill me, and you."

He scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, about that, I sort of called her this morning to tell her where you were…she has a…colorful vocabulary."

Clara couldn't help the amused smile that curled around her lips. "Sounds like Linda to me."

"I think at one point she was threatening to eviscerate me." Matt chuckled despite the look of true terror that was on his face.

At that Clara burst out laughing. "She must like you, most of the threats she makes towards people are much worse."

He gave her an alarmed look. "That was her expressing her approval of me?"

She grinned. "Oh relax, Mattie; she's all bark and no bite."

Matt stiffened, and gripped the door a little tighter, his expression turning cold within an instant.

Clara blinked. "Matt? Did I say something wrong?"

He swallowed and relaxed a little. "I would appreciate it if you didn't call me that."

"You mean Mattie? I'm sorry, it just popped out. I didn't even think about it really." She stood when he didn't respond and took a few daring steps closer to him. "I'm sorry, Matt; I won't call you that again. Besides, I think Chin Boy is much better, don't you?"

He smiled at her attempt to lighten the mood. "I do not have a big chin."

"Yes you do, look at it. It sticks out like a—like a big nose, but a chin." She rubbed her own chin and squinted at him.

Matt rolled his eyes. "You're impossible."

She smiled and winked. "'S why you like me."

He gave her a playful look and opened the door wider. "Breakfast?"

Clara grinned. "Please."

She let him lead the way back downstairs, smiling to herself when the smell of warm pastries and coffee drifted across her nose.

"Mm, marvelous," Clara sat down and opened up the takeaway bag, "Oh, scones! My favorites too." She smiled up at him. "Thank you."

He nodded and sat across from her. "I hope you don't mind that I had to go out and buy everything, I'm a terrible cook."

Clara picked up a blueberry scone. "Well, if you pretend you made all of this yourself, then I'll pretend to believe you and we can call it even, deal?"

Matt grinned and took a sip of his coffee. "Deal."

"Oh, before I forget." Clara scurried out into the lounge in search of her purse. She pulled out the small extra bottle of pills she always kept with her and pulled out her dosage. Swallowing the medication quickly she scrunched her face up at the awful feeling of the round pills sliding down her throat and rejoined Matt in the kitchen.

He glanced up from a journal he was scribbling in. "All good?"

She nodded, "Yeah. What are you working on?"

Matt huffed. "Work. My boss has me writing a piece on a local animal charity." He slammed down his pen and glanced up at her. "Speaking of, I should probably head over there soon. What time are they expecting you at work?"

She glanced up at the clock. "In about ten minutes or so."

He stood abruptly. "Well then, we best be going, yeah?"

She let him drive her to work that day, arriving only a few minutes late and earning a slight disapproving look from her boss.

Clara spent the rest of her day watching the clock with nervous anticipation. She knew her aunt was going to be beyond furious with her when she got home.

As soon as she was released from work she started the short walk back to Linda's house, dragging her feet to make it as slow as possible. She knew it was ridiculous to feel like a teenager caught where she shouldn't be by her parents. Despite her diagnosis, Clara was an adult, and felt her aunt should treat her like one.

Of course, she knew that would never happen.

She could see Linda waiting in the window with a blank expression. Clara gnawed on her lip, causing it to bleed slightly as she shakily pulled out her keys and opened the door.

It shut with a loud bang that made Clara's heart stop for a moment. She didn't dare turn around when she heard footsteps pounding down the hallway.

"Clara Oswald, what in the hell did you think you were doing last night?" Linda demanded.

Clara sighed heavily. "I'm sorry I missed your calls Aunt Linda, I fell asleep at Matt's."

She turned to find Linda glaring with her hands on her hips. "Oh, I'm well aware of your little sleepover, missy. Do you not have any common sense at all? That boy is going to ruin you! You're lucky he didn't try anything funny." She gave Clara a second look. "Or did he?"

"No!" She shouted. "Matt would never do something like that. I just fell asleep while we were watching a movie, that's all that happened."

Linda gave her a disbelieving look. "Oh I'm sure. Or maybe, maybe he didn't initiate it, maybe it was you." She sneered at Clara.

Clara stared at her with shock. "Linda! I would never do something like that."

Her aunt snorted. "Well, either way, this is your last warning. If you let something like this happen again, I'm putting in a call with Dr. Jones."

Clara felt tears sting her eyes. "I'm not a child Linda, and you shouldn't treat me like one."

She rolled her eyes. "Just go to your room."

Clara stared her down for a moment, feeling it when the tension in the room started to peak until finally she broke away with a huff.

Linda glanced over her shoulder. "I only have your best interests in mind, sweetheart. You know that."

Clara slammed her door shut and collapsed onto her bed.

She lay staring at her ceiling for a moment, listening to her heart and trying to put a clamp down on the anger that was still boiling inside of her. Because, despite her faults, she knew that her aunt really did have her best interests at heart.

Clara huffed, that's what made this situation the most difficult.

She jumped when her mobile let out a loud ring. Without glancing at the caller ID, Clara answered the call and placed the phone against her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Patient," a voice purred.

Clara sat straight up. "Who is this?"

"Oh I'm hurt, you don't remember me?" She heard the caller laugh bitterly. "Not surprising really; they got to you. Allow me to refresh your memory: my name's Nina."

Clara's heart stopped.

"No." Her voice broke. "You're not real."

"Aw, Patient, I'm so sorry I wasn't able to get to you before they did. I've been watching, though—looks like you caught the eye of someone special." Her tone had a slight jealous tinge to it. "Sweet little Mattie Smith. I see why you like him."

Clara felt her hands starting to shake. "Leave me alone," she hissed and hung up the call. Seconds later, she had the phone pressed to her ear again.

"Hi, Clara," Matt answered after the second ring. "How did it go with your aunt?"

She felt the tears spill over, and placed a hand over her mouth.

"Clara?"

She heard the sob escape from her lips and bit down on her tongue as hard as she could.

"Clara, what is it, what's wrong? Did Linda do something, what is it?" Matt's voice was panicked now. "I'm coming over there."

"No!" Clara surprised them both with her exclamation. "No, it's alright, Matt, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly.

She bit her lip and wiped her eyes. "Yeah, I'll be fine, sorry to call you."

"Hey, no, it's alright, Clara. I'm happy to be of service." She swore she heard him smiling through the phone. "She didn't hurt you, did she?"

Clara pulled in a shaky breath. "Not physically, no."

Matt growled. "What did she say to you?"

She sighed heavily and laid down across her bedspread, "Nothing. Its fine, don't worry about it."

"Clara…"

She kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling. "She thought…well, first she thought you tried to take advantage of me, but now…now she thinks I may have been the instigator."

Matt was very quiet on the other end of the line.

"Matt?" Clara whispered.

"Clara let's get something straight, I would never—"

"No, no, I know that, but this is my aunt we're talking about here. She doesn't trust me to take care of myself at all, and she trusts you even less." Clara sighed heavily. "Sometimes I really wish my dad was still here. At least he was only scared of me; Linda doesn't respect me at all."

Matt sighed heavily. "Family sucks sometimes, that's all I can really say."

Clara laughed bitterly. "Tell me about it."

"You know if you ever need a place to stay, my door is always open," he said quietly.

She chuckled. "Thanks, Chin Boy."

"Clara, I'm serious." His tone made her fall quiet. "Anything you need, all you have to do is ask."

She blinked, tears threatening to spill over again, "Thank you, Matt, really."

"You're very welcome." His voice was warm, and Clara wished he was there so she could see what he was thinking.

"Who are you talking to in there?" Linda's shrill voice cried.

"No one!" Clara called back. She sighed and pulled the phone back up to her ear. "Listen, I've got to go, but I'll talk to you soon, yeah?"

"You better," Matt teased. "See you Saturday?"

"Yeah," she promised, and quickly hung up the phone.

Linda burst into her room with her hands on her hips. "Who were you talking to?"

"No one, Aunt Linda," Clara answered with her best innocent expression.

Her aunt narrowed her eyes. "It better not have been that Smith boy."

Clara narrowed her eyes. "Get out."

Linda blinked. "Excuse me?"

She jumped to her feet. "I said, get. Out!" Clara slammed the door in Linda's face and locked the door tightly.

Linda immediately began pounding on her door angrily. "You open this door young lady! Open this door this second!"

Clara pulled out a pair of earplugs and picked up her phone to resume deleting messages. Outside of her door she could hear her Aunt Linda shouting curses at her, calling Clara every bad name she could think of.

Clara ignored her until the handle rattled and the door flew open.

She jumped and yanked the earplugs out of her ears when Aunt Linda stalked towards her, her face full of a dark anger that scared Clara.

"That's it! That's absolutely it! No more seeing this Smith man, I'm putting in a call to Dr. Jones now." She pulled out her mobile and started searching for the right number.

"No!" Clara shouted and lurched to her feet. "You can't do that!"

Linda narrowed her eyes. "Watch me."

"No, Aunt Linda, please, you can punish me any way you like but please don't do this," Clara begged, clinging to her aunt's arm.

She shook her off and stomped out of the room. "Hello, is this Dr. Jones? Dr. Jones hi, my name is Linda Oswald; I'm acting as Clara Oswald's legal guardian at the moment." She started walking down the hall. "Y-yes, well I think you and I have something we need to discuss."

Clara stared after her aunt with disbelief and shock written across her features. Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she looked at the new message numbly.

* * *

**Received 5:00 PM**

**I can't wait to get you back. It's going to be so much fun.**

**See you soon,** **Patient. xx**

**-Nina**


	7. Chapter 7: Hysteria

**Chapter 6: Hysteria.**

Matt heard the soft click of the second tape ending, but he didn't slow his typing. He was already two chapters in to her story; he couldn't afford to stop now. Somewhere towards the front of the flat he heard the clock chime, telling him that the time was well past four in the morning, but he refused to slow his typing.

Matt rubbed at his face, his fingers catching on the sharp bristles under his chin. Damn, he'd forgotten to shave again. He sighed heavily and took another sip of his tea, his face scrunching up when the lukewarm drink left a bitter taste in his mouth.

_"Careful dear, you'll put someone's eye out."_

He smiled faintly, imagining her soft voice in his ear. He missed her. It had almost been four months since her passing, and with every passing day Matt could feel the gaping hole in his heart growing wider and wider. Sometimes he felt as though the hole was about to swallow him, leaving nothing of the man John Matthew Smith behind.

Matt let out a shaky sigh, and allowed his head to fall into his hands.

He missed her; it was as simple as that.

* * *

Matt's head jerked up when the loud banging coming from his front door yanked him out of a deep sleep. With his eyes half-open, he forced himself to his feet, grumbling under his breath as he shuffled towards the door.

He opened it and was met with the worried eyes of one Mrs. Amelia Pond.

"Why are you here?" Matt huffed, but let her brush past him.

"Jeez, thanks Matt, love you too," Amy bit back sarcastically, flopping herself down on his couch without an invitation. She didn't need one, really. "Can't I just pop by to say hello every now and then since you refuse to return my phone calls?" Her voice was a high sing-song, but he could still hear the hurt underneath her light tone.

He sighed heavily and let himself sink down next to her. "Sorry about that, been busy."

She snorted. "Yeah, right, okay. If busy is what you want to call it. When was the last time you showered or shaved? Or ate? Or slept in a bed?"

Matt waved her off and lay back so his head was in her lap and his feet dangled over the arm of the couch. "I'll get around to it."

She raised an eyebrow. "Get around to it? Matt, you're going to kill yourself if you keep going on like this. I know you want to finish that book, but what would Clara say if she saw you this way?"

He flinched, staring up into her concerned green eyes. "I don't know."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Yes you do, you just don't want to say it."

Matt huffed and pushed himself away from her. "What do you want me to say, Amy? I've done everything everyone's asked of me: I'm returning to work, I've paid my bills, shopped for groceries, spent time with my family, I've even gone out with you and Jack! I've kept up with everything that's been asked of me even when all I want to do is be left alone and it's exhausting." He sighed, and rubbed his face roughly with his hands. "I'm tired, Amy, I'm tired and I'm lost. And this? This is the only thing that makes me feel like I have a purpose anymore. When I'm writing…it's almost like she's with me again."

His rant was interrupted by a loud knock at his door.

They both froze for a moment, and Matt's expression slowly morphed into a dark glare. "You didn't."

Amy gulped, but stared him down. "I might've."

Matt growled loudly and went to open his door. "What are you doing here, Jack?"

Jack didn't look surprised at the hostility in his friend's tone. "Amy called." He held up a bottle of sparkling cider. "I knew you wouldn't approve if I brought champagne."

Matt sighed heavily, and let his friend inside. Jack gave him his flirtiest smile and proudly thrust the bottle in his hands, patting his cheek affectionately.

"Oh, Amelia!" he cried out as soon as he was in the door, opening his arms wide as Amy stood to receive his hug. "It's been too long, sweetheart."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, that's enough. Get off me, you perv," she grinned and kissed Jack's cheek. "It's nice to see you too."

Jack glanced over at Matt. "Well come on and join us, roomie. Break open that lovely cider."

Matt rolled his eyes and left to get them glasses from the kitchen, all the while grumbling to himself about pushy Americans.

"What was that, Smithy?" Jack called.

"Shut up!" Matt snapped.

He heard both of them laughing as he poured the cider, and stopped at the door of his kitchen when their voices lowered to whispers.

"Have you told him yet?" Jack murmured.

"No, you should've seen him when I got here." He heard Amy let out a shaky breath. "I've been trying to think up a way to soften the blow, but I just don't know how, Jack. Maybe Rory should be here with me…"

Matt's eyes widened and he peeked out from his kitchen. Jack had one hand rubbing Amy's arm soothingly. "Just give it to him straight, Pond, treat it like a band-aide."

She nodded, "Yeah, I s'pose your right."

"Just give what to me straight?" Matt asked as he fully entered his living room. "What is it you're not telling me?"

Both of his friends looked up at him with guilty expressions. Amy stood and took two of the glasses from him, handing Jack his cider.

"Amy…" Matt pleaded. "Amelia, please, just tell me."

Amy bit her lip. Matt never called her Amelia unless he was at his most serious. "Matt I… I'm…" She trailed off, her eyes searching his face for something.

"Hey." Matt's tone softened, and he gave her cheek an affectionate swipe of his thumb. "It's me, Pond. You can tell me anything."

She leaned into his hand and took in a deep breath. "Matt, I'm pregnant."

He stared at her for a few tense seconds before a wide smile lit up his face.

"Really?" Matt's eyes flickered to her stomach and then back up at his cider. "Jack! You didn't tell me?"

Jack gave him a watery smile. "Not my story to tell."

Matt set down his drink and practically lurched forward to give Amy a tight hug. "This is wonderful!" He laughed. "Does Rory know?"

She sniffed. "Yeah, he does."

He let out another laugh before frowning and pulling away. "Why were you so afraid to tell me? It's wonderful news, Amy, why try to hide it? You know I would've only found out on my own anyway." He attempted to grin at her but she looked away. "Amy?"

"Matt, you should sit down." She took his hand and guided him back down to the couch. "That's not the news I was trying to hide…"

Matt cocked his head. He felt his heart squeeze with nervousness when Amy kept her eyes firmly focused on their joined hands. He looked over at Jack, but his friend's expression told him nothing. He was keeping his face carefully guarded.

"Amy, just tell me." Matt whispered, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze. "Whatever it is we can get through it. All of us, together."

Amy pulled in a shaky breath. "That's just it Matt, we can't. Not together anyway…" She finally looked up at him, her green eyes full of sorrow. "I was offered a job—"

"Isn't that good?"

"In New York," she finished.

Matt froze, his hand automatically releasing hers as his eyes widened with realization.

"It's with a prominent publishing house that's based there. I tried to convince them to let me stay here, but their insistent that I move. Rory's already gotten a job offer there and we've already put our house up on the market. We're officially leaving in a few months and…" She blinked furiously and gnawed on her bottom lip. "Matt, please say something."

Matt stared at her for a moment before taking her hand and forcing his best smile. "That's wonderful," he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear. "Congratulations, Amelia Williams."

Amy flinched a little but met his eyes with a forced smile of her own. She knew, he could tell. She knew he was angry, but he was happy for her. Or really, he should be happy for her. A part of him, a small part admittedly, screamed at the rest of him to see sense, to wake up and stop acting like a spoiled child. Amy had a life, and he was keeping her from it. He'd known that for a while now, but being directly faced with that fact was more than a little unsettling.

He was not angry with her; he was angry with himself.

_You selfish coward_, his inner voice hissed, _are you really that terrified of losing her? She has a husband and a baby to think of now, she's not yours to control. Let her go, let her be happy._

_She is not yours._

Matt swallowed when he felt Jack clap a hand on his shoulder. Amy was in the kitchen washing out their emptied glasses; laughing at something she'd found in one of Matt's cabinets.

He turned and gave Jack a weak smile.

Jack gave him a scrutinizing look. "You okay?"

Matt felt his grin become even more forced. "I'm always okay."

His friend gave him a reproachful look, but only patted his shoulder a few extra times, "Alright then."

Amy walked back in with her hands on her hips. "Now, you have some explaining to do, John Matthew Smith."

Matt gulped and shrank away from her harsh disapproving look. "What did I do?"

"Why do you have no food in your house besides this?" She pulled out a box of fish fingers and several packages of custard.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and held up a hand. "Because…"

She raised an eyebrow when he didn't continue. "Yes?"

"Well, you see, there is a perfectly logical explanation…Jack?" He glanced at his other best friend for help.

Jack only snorted and crossed his arms. "Save yourself mate, I'm waiting for an answer too."

Matt gulped again before turning his attention back to Amy. "I'm…dieting?"

Amy raised both of her eyebrows. "What kind of diet would make you eat nothing but fish fingers and custard?"

He shrugged. "A good one?"

She rolled her eyes and stuffed the food back into his poorly stocked fridge. "Okay, well that's just not going to cut it anymore. We need to get some real food into you." She snatched a piece of paper and a pen, furiously scribbling out a list of food items. "Jack you run to the store, don't come back until you have everything."

Jack leapt off of the couch to give her a salute. "Yes, ma'am."

Amy handed him the paper and waited until he was gone to cross the room over to Matt. "As for you, it's shower time."

He groaned and let his head flop over the back of the couch. "Do I have to?"

She snorted and attempted to haul him up by the wrist. "I swear, Matt, you're worse than a four year old. Get up, or I'll drag you all the way up the stairs."

Matt opened his eyes to squint at her. "You wouldn't."

Amy put her hands on her hips and met his challenge with her eyes. "Try me."

They stood still for a long moment; each sizing the other one up until Matt gave up with a huff and hauled himself to his feet.

Amy grinned. "Now there's a good boy."

He stuck his tongue out at her. "Oh, shut up, Pond."

She only giggled and went upstairs ahead of him, entering his room in search of clean clothes. She stopped just inside of his door, staring around the room with wide eyes.

"What?" He asked, peeking over her shoulder into the neat bedroom.

"It's…clean." She whispered.

Matt gave her an incredulous look. "Are you feeling alright there, Pond? Got a fever?" He felt her forehead.

She turned to him with wide eyes. "Matt, your room is _clean_."

His eyebrows pulled down into a worried line. "Yes, I clean sometimes. Shocking I know, but it is possible for a man to do such an act now and then."

She shook her head. "Not you. Matt, it's physically impossible for you to keep your room this organized. The whole time I've known you it's always been that way."

Matt lowered his eyes. "Yeah well…things change."

Amy searched his face for a moment, and then reached up to tuck away a few errant strands of his hair. "My poor Raggedy Man…you never let on how bad you really are, do you? Always putting on a brave smile so the rest of us can't see the vulnerable man lying just below the surface."

"What's your point?" he snapped, his tone a bit harsher than he meant it to be.

She forced him to make eye contact with her.

"You're lonely." Her voice was barely a whisper.

Matt backed away from Amy, turning around swiftly and half running for the bathroom. "I'll find clean clothes myself after I shower. You just…make yourself at home, not that you have a problem with that."

The last thing he saw before slamming the bathroom door was Amy's heartbroken expression.

Matt let his forehead rest against the cool wood of the bathroom door for a moment before turning around and leaning over to turn on the shower.

He listened to the water run and stared at himself in the mirror while he waited for it to heat up. What he saw there made him recoil in shock; he barely recognized the face staring back at him. The eyes were sunken in, the skin around the bones of his face tight in a way that didn't look healthy by any means. And as he looked closer, he could see that his skin was so pale it looked grey under the fluorescent light. What's more, the scraggy beginnings of a beard made him feel even more self-conscious about the hollows of his cheeks.

Matt knew he looked sick. He also knew that while this wasn't quite true, he wasn't healthy. He knew by the ribs that poked against the skin of his chest, he knew by how that skin tightly wrapped around his thin torso and was just starting to show off his bony hips. He knew because he couldn't remember the last time he ate a real meal, he knew because he could see the deadness in his eyes. There was no light in him anymore; that required an energy he just didn't have.

Matt sighed heavily and stepped into the scorching hot shower. He knew he was burning skin, and he watched as his color quickly turned from grey to bright red, but he didn't bother turning the water back to a reasonable temperature. He was going to stand there until it was cold anyway, so what was the point?

He swallowed, and sluggishly reached for the first soap bottle he would need.

When Matt deemed himself clean he reached for the faucet, only to be stopped by the sight of a familiar shampoo bottle. More specifically, it was her shampoo bottle.

He clenched his fist and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting to keep himself from reaching for it. He couldn't reach for it, because if he did, what little stability he had right now would tip and the world would start spinning all over again.

And yet, he was still unable to stop himself from wrapping his fingers around the bottle. He couldn't control himself from opening up the lid and bringing the top up to his nose.

He squeezed the bottle gently.

The fresh smell of watermelons tickled Matt's nose and brought tears to his eyes. He blinked, and snapped the lid back down, nearly throwing the bottle against the shower wall in his haste to escape.

Matt shut off the water quickly and wrapped himself in a towel, forcing himself to sit down on the cool tile of the bathroom floor when his shallow breathing caused the room to spin wildly. He cupped the back of his neck with his hands and forced his head down to his knees, trying to calm himself.

_"That's it; in…and out…"_ she whispered.

Matt pulled in a slow breath of air through his nose, and let it puff out of his mouth in time with her counts. He felt his heart rate begin to slow, concentrating on the feeling of his pulse fading from his fingertips.

_"Relax,"_ she murmured. _"It's all going to be okay now."_

Matt nodded, and leaned his head back against the bathroom wall. He felt his lips tug into a manic smile and heard a hysterical laugh echo around the bathroom. Was that him? He wasn't sure, all he could feel was the coldness of the tile seeping through his wet towel and the air rushing in and out of his lungs.

He heard Amy knock on the door. "Matt? Are you alright in there?"

He giggled, and tried to control himself. "Yeah, fine, be right down."

She seemed to hesitate before heading back downstairs.

Matt sighed heavily and hauled himself into an upright position. He knew Amy was going to scold him if he came out without shaving. He ran his hand along the sharp bristles that covered his chin and neck, reluctantly pulling out his razor and getting to work.

Once he felt that his skin was smooth enough, Matt yanked on the fresh clothes he found on the counter and trotted downstairs to rejoin Amy. He could hear her and Jack banging around in his kitchen, laughing while they stowed away all the items Jack had bought.

He hesitated, before finally crossing over the kitchen threshold.

Jack grinned up at him from his table, a plate of food in hand. "You've got to try this, Johnny boy; Amelia actually cooked something that doesn't taste like lighter fluid!"

Amy wacked the back of his head with a thick cookbook. "Oi! Maybe next time I won't save you a plate! And don't call me Amelia!"

Jack only winked at her, and resumed eating.

Amy handed Matt a steaming plate of what appeared to be some kind of pasta covered in a green sauce. "Eat." Her tone left no room for argument.

He saluted her. "Yes ma'am."

Taking the plate of food, Matt sat down across from Jack and gingerly picked up his fork. He really didn't want to eat, the smell of the pasta was starting to make him nauseous, but Amy's dark glare prompted him to dutifully pop a piece into his mouth and chew.

He nodded, forcing a smile on his face. "It's good."

She smiled with approval, and while her back was turned Matt let out a small shudder. The food made him want to gag, not because of the taste, but simply due to his lack of desire for it.

Jack shot him a worried glance, and he popped another piece into his mouth with a manic smile.

He huffed internally; soothing the worries of his friends was going to be exhausting.

Amy joined the boys with a satisfied smirk, plopping herself down in between them and stuffing her face with pasta. She closed her eyes and moaned.

"I swear I could live off of this stuff if I had to," she said, and eagerly went for another bite.

Jack grinned. "You'd starve if you had to live off of your own cooking all the time."

Amy smacked his arm. "Shut up, I'm eating."

He rolled his eyes and shot Matt a conspiratorial look. "Right."

Matt snorted, but didn't comment.

Amy looked over at him thoughtfully while she chewed. "Let's see…showered, shaved, eating, food shopping done and I've got your laundry going…what else?"

He gulped down another bite of pasta. "I think that's all, really."

Amy thought for a moment, and then clapped her hands loudly. "Cleaning! That's it!"

Matt and Jack both groaned in unison. "I already cleaned the house, Amy." Matt complained, knowing it was of no use.

She rolled her eyes. "Wiping off your desk with a cloth does not count as cleaning, Matt."

He sighed heavily, and got up to scrape the remaining pasta off of his plate. "What do you want us to do?"

She worried her lips and glanced around. "Let's see…Jack! You're on vacuum duty for now."

Jack stood ramrod straight. "Yes ma'am!" he shouted, and marched out of the kitchen.

Matt and Amy glanced at each other. "Wait for it…"

"Say, Matt—"

"Closet under the stairs," Matt pointed.

Jack grinned. "Thanks, Doc."

"Don't call me that," he snapped back.

To his credit, Jack actually looked remorseful over his mistake before resuming his hunt for the cleaning utility. Matt snorted, and turned back to Amy. "What about me, Sarge?"

His friend stood and moved in to fix his bowtie. It shocked him a little to feel her fingers run along the smooth silk. When he thought about it, Matt couldn't quite remember the last time he had worn the garment.

"You put it on," she whispered.

Matt blinked, confused, and glanced down. "Huh," he muttered. "Guess I did…"

Amy smiled at him, her green eyes lighting up softly. "It looks good."

He gave her a slight smile. "It does, doesn't it? It's cool, bowties are cool."

She laughed and patted his chest. "I don't know if I would go that far, Raggedy Man, but it does suit you…" She reached up to kiss his cheek. "Now, I want you on dusting. Think you can handle that?"

Matt knew by the look on her face that when she said dusting, she meant his study. He'd neglected making any changes to the room, even just by cleaning it. Doing so felt like a crime to Matt, leaving a heavy weight in his chest and a sour taste in his mouth.

He gulped, "As you wish."

Amy handed him a bottle of cleaning fluid and an old towel before shoving him out of the safety of the kitchen. He clutched the supplies tightly in his hands, standing just outside of the open door. He could hear Jack cursing loudly from the top of the stairs, and smiled a bit when Amy started scolding him for language.

With one large breath in for courage, Matt gingerly stepped into the study. He knew it was ridiculous to feel the way he did. It was just a room. A room he'd been in a thousand times before Clara entered his life, and hundreds of times after her…her death.

He was still having difficulty saying the word in his head, and it was impossible for him to utter it out loud. He still hadn't entirely accepted the fact that it was true. Most days Matt still expected to look up and find her there, but Clara was dead, and there was no changing that.

He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, and started on his task.

Matt focused in on the bookshelves first. He carefully worked some of the cleaning oil into the cloth he was holding, and delicately allowed it to run over the wood of the shelves. He put the bottle down on his desk, and began to allow the towel to work its way in between the weathered spines of his books. These shelves did not hold his favorites, but they were books nonetheless.

Matt had always held a passion for books. He had never been allowed to own many as a child, and he believed that was why his fascination had first started. He remembered begging his mother to allow him to buy the books out of the tiny shop on their street. The library was too far away for them to visit, but when he got older Matt would often sneak out to spend hours lost among the shelves. It was here that he felt most alive, his head bowed, his mind far away.

He read everything—fiction, poetry, anything he could get his hands on. Modern or classic, well-written or rubbish, it didn't matter. As long as the book had words printed on the pages he would be compelled to read it.

Matt smiled slightly to himself; it was in that same library that he had experienced his first kiss.

He remembered the girl clearly. He was thirteen and she was fourteen. Matt recalled how awkward he felt, especially because she was older than him. Despite her age, she had already held a maturity Matt still wasn't completely convinced he'd ever mastered. He remembered being jealous of how confident she had seemed throughout their whole relationship, if you could call it that. Her name was…

Matt paused what he was doing to concentrate.

Her name was River. River Song.

He wondered where she was now.

She had been a strange one, his River, always rushing off somewhere and keeping secrets from him. They'd had, what you could call, a toxic relationship. She kept her secrets, and he kept his, and all it ever led to were shouting matches.

Matt closed his eyes as he poured fresh oil over his towel, thinking back on the last time he'd seen her. It hadn't been in that library, nor were they teenagers anymore. It had been his second year at university; he was visiting the Library of Congress in Washington DC, one of the largest libraries in the world. It was spring break and Matt would be returning home soon. He'd spent most of his time running around New York, but he just couldn't bring himself to leave without visiting the library. He wanted to be a writer, after all. One who was great enough to have his books stocked in such a beautiful place.

He had stared around himself in awe. As far as literature went, this place was what Matt considered to be a temple. Rows upon rows upon rows of books were stacked up all along the walls. Mobile ladders and pristine mahogany desks with old-styled lamps covered every available floor space, and though he wasn't supposed to, Matt couldn't help but brush his fingers along the smooth wood and sparkling glass.

The beauty of it all took his breath away.

It wasn't until the end of the tour that he saw her. She was in a group across the room, her eyes wide with awe as she took in the enormous palace before her. That was what Matt had always loved most about River—her ability to become lost in her own wonder.

She looked much the same, her wild blond hair a fuzzy mess around her head and her blue-green eyes with that same pierce to them. As if she could see right through everything to the heart of the truth.

In other words, she hadn't changed at all.

He waited at the entrance once his tour was over, desperately trying to work up the courage to talk to her.

"Hi River, I don't know if you remember me, but you were my first kiss back in…" He waved a hand aggressively. "No, rubbish…"

He thought for another moment.

He plastered on a cheesy smile. "Hey River! Remember that boy from the library? Well, guess who? No!" He slapped his forehead. "Stupid, silly old…."

He took in a deep breath to start again.

"John?"

Matt spun around on his heel, coming face-to-face with wild hair and green eyes.

He gulped, "Miss Song?"

River smirked. "It's _Professor_ Song to you."

He blushed. "Yes, well, ah…I was wondering…if you would—"

She smiled widely over his stuttering, and ran forward the two steps between them to throw her arms around his neck and give him an enthusiastic kiss.

"Mm, ah," Matt flailed his arms around until she pulled away. "What was _that_ for?"

River smirked. "That was hello. Now, coffee?"

She sauntered past him, and Matt could only stare at her with his mouth slightly open. What had just happened? His brain took a moment to play catch up before he jumped back into the present.

"Yes! Coffee, good!" He ran after her.

Matt was snapped out of his reverie with the sound of a tremendous crash coming from the room above him.

"_Jack_!" Amy thundered.

He smiled to himself when he heard Jack shouting a whole host of creative and violent insults at the object he had broken. Part of him wanted to go see what exactly his friend had destroyed; the other half of him really just didn't want to know. Ignorance was bliss.

Matt looked up when he heard footsteps pounding down the stairs. A wild mess of ginger hair and rumpled clothing burst into his study, skidding to a stop before she could run into his desk.

"Matt, we're really sorry." She panted, gripping the edges of the desk so tightly her knuckles turned white. "Really, truly, _very_ sorry. I tried to warn Jack, I tried to catch it but…"

He felt his brow furrow. "Amy, whatever it is, I'm sure it's no big deal."

She gulped; her eyes full of fear—for him? Or because of him?—as she gnawed her lips. "Matt, maybe you better come look."

He dropped his cleaning supplies and ran past her to the stairs. Jack was standing at his bedroom door with an expression full of a deep remorse.

He put his hands up as Matt approached. "Look, Matt, I'm really sorry. I mean that; really, really sorry."

Matt shoved past him, and froze in the doorway of his bedroom.

There, on the floor, in pieces, was her music box.

"No." He whispered, tentatively walking—almost crawling—towards the broken object. He cupped the broken birds in his hands, one was a shattered mess of rosy colored glass, and the other had lost a wing.

His heart wrenched at the sight. The music box had been a gift from him to Clara. He'd given it to her the night before their wedding.

He remembered her warm smile when she had unwrapped the delicate gift. The little birds had let out soft clicking sounds as they jiggled from their suspended point on the intricate branches of a tightly wound tree attached to the base of the box.

_"It's beautiful,"_ she had whispered.

He had reached out and wound it up, letting the light notes of their song: Skinny Love, by Birdy echo around them softly.

Matt clutched at the broken fragments of the birds, being careful to keep the sharp edges of the glass away from him. He clenched his jaw, and squeezed his eyes closed.

"Matt…" Jack whispered.

Matt hissed when he felt the glass cut into his hand. He relaxed his grip, and carefully stood to place the broken pieces on his dresser. He could hear Jack and Amy shifting behind him, but couldn't bring himself to turn around. They wanted to be forgiven, he knew that, and a piece of him knew that's what he should do. He could fix the music box, probably.

He knew it had been an accident, but Matt felt as though someone had come along and ripped open the hole in his chest all over again, leaving his wounds fresh.

He flinched when a small hand touched his shoulder. "Matt, we can fix it."

He snorted, and shrugged her hand away, spinning around sharply and marching out of the room.

"No you can't," he hissed.

"Matt—" Jack started.

Matt violently spun to face him. "No! Shut up! Just…" He clenched his fingers together, lowering his hand, which was trembling with the anger he was keeping tightly wound inside. Matt let out a loud puff of air to calm him. It didn't work.

They continued to stare at him, and he sighed tiredly, feeling a large and horribly familiar weight crash down on his shoulders. "This isn't like all the other times, Jack. This isn't something you can just patch up with a few bits of tape!"

Jack slowly raised his hands. "Listen, I know that, but I can try for you. I know how important that was to you Matt; I know how important Clara was."

He growled. "No, don't. Don't do that."

Amy pushed past Jack to stand toe-to-toe with Matt. She stared him down, matching his dark glare with her own. "Calm down."

"Why should I?" he hissed.

"Because Jack is your friend, because if you don't you're going to do something you'll regret."

He snorted. "No, I don't think I will. Get out of the way, Pond, this doesn't concern you."

Her eyes blazed. "Like hell it doesn't! He's my friend too, or did you forget that? And since when was it so easy for you to turn on us? Hm? Tell me that, Matt!"

Matt snarled. "Maybe I'm tired, Amelia. Tired of everyone poking their noses where they don't belong! Why can't you all just _leave me alone_!" He lurched, causing both of his friends to jerk, and threw a pile of books into his wall, making the whole house shake as they tumbled to the floor.

All three of them went very still, their eyes locked on each other.

Amy's eyes softened. "You see?" she whispered. "This is what happens when you've been alone for too long."

Matt paused, curling his hands into his sides before turning swiftly to rush down to his front door.

He stopped, and held it open. "I think it's time you both leave."

They both stood their ground for a moment. "Matt." Amy reached out a hand.

"I said: get _out_," Matt's voice was deadly, low and controlled. He was dangerous; they should remember that by now.

The three of them became locked in another stare down. Matt gripped the wooden edge of the door tightly with his fingers, ignoring the painful signals coming from hand.

Jack broke the silence first with a sigh. "Come on, Amelia." He laid a hand on her shoulder and they both quickly gathered their things, exiting Matt's flat quietly.

Amy gave him one last look before she left, and he reached out to squeeze her hand. No, he wasn't mad at her, not really.

She gave him a timid smile, and left.

Matt slammed the door shut, letting the sound reverberate through the walls of his flat. He took a moment to lean against the door, breathing hard.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and swallowed down his tears. He was done crying. He was done being weak.

Matt decided he needed a distraction, something to take his mind off of this place. He fumbled through his drawers until he found what he was looking for—a phone number hastily scribbled onto a crinkled slip of paper. A number he had sworn to himself he would never call again.

He hesitated, his fingers just above the keys, before he finished dialing and pressed the phone to his ear. His heart was pounding, his breathing still a bit ragged. His chest still felt like someone had taken a wrecking ball to it, leaving nothing but the aching hole he couldn't escape from now.

He didn't care anymore; he was numb to the feeling.

"Hello?" a female voice purred.

Matt felt the familiar smirk slither across his face. "Professor Song, how about coffee?"


	8. Chapter 8: Insanity

**Chapter 7: Insanity.**

Clara couldn't believe her aunt had actually followed through with her threat.

She had sat quietly in her room, trying in vain to hold back tears while Linda had a heated discussion with Dr. Jones. It seemed as though the kind therapist was on Clara's side in all of this, and she silently thanked her. She didn't know how she could go back to life without Matt now. He made her feel better, he made her forget.

"Thank you, Ms. Jones, we'll be happy to attend." Linda snapped and slammed her phone onto a table, causing Clara to jump.

She scrambled away from her door when she heard Linda's thundering footsteps coming down the hall.

Her aunt burst into the room with a murderous expression. "We're meeting with your doctor in an hour. Get ready." She slammed her door shut hard enough that it made the foundations of the house vibrate.

Clara swallowed, and did as she was told.

* * *

The ride to the asylum was full of tension. Aunt Linda drove, her beady eyes glaring out at anyone who dared to challenge her rights on the road. Clara stared out of the window and tried to envision herself anywhere else. It didn't matter at this point, as long as she was far away from this woman.

Clara wasn't sure how much more she could take from her aunt. Despite what Linda believed, she was not a child. She could take care of herself; it wasn't as though she was still considered a danger to herself or others anymore. Those days were far behind her.

Clara shuddered when she thought back on her first couple of days in the hospital, back when she was at her lowest point. When the whole world had looked dark and threatening, making everyone—including the people she loved—a danger.

They pulled up into the hospital's parking lot and her aunt turned off the ignition roughly. She turned to glare at Clara, her mouth flattened in a disapproving line.

"Now remember, Clara, this whole meeting is just a formality. That Mr. Smith is a bad influence on you, and I'm sure Dr. Jones will see that." She sniffed, and pushed her door open.

Clara sat staring at the space she had just occupied. She had known her aunt was overbearing, but could she really be this cruel? Linda knew how much Matt had been helping her, she had commented on it several times over the past few weeks. How could she do this?

"Clara!"

She jumped, and hurried to follow her aunt into the asylum. Matt was already there waiting at the front doors, his face full of worry and his eyes fixed on Clara.

"Are you okay?" He demanded as soon as she was within hearing range.

Clara gave him a slight smile, and reached out to squeeze his hand. "I've been better."

"You get away from her," Linda hissed over Clara's shoulder.

Matt narrowed his eyes, but dropped Clara's hand after giving it one last squeeze. "You must be Linda Oswald."

She sniffed, and pulled Clara away from him. "And _you_ must be John Smith. Tell me, John, what _really_ happened last night?" Her tone was scathing, her features twisted with rage.

"Linda!" Clara shouted, and roughly shoved away from her aunt. "Can we all just go inside, please?"

Her aunt gave her a glare that was so heated, Clara worried for a moment that Linda was going to slap her.

"Fine," she hissed, and shoved past Matt and Clara roughly.

The two of them shared a look, and quietly followed her into the small reception area of the hospital. Linda went up to the desk to ask for Dr. Jones while Matt and Clara hung back by the doors.

Matt reached down to squeeze her hand. She felt him lean down to whisper into her ear. "It's all going to be okay, I promise."

Clara wanted to tell him not to make promises he couldn't keep, but only nodded mutely and gripped his fingers a little more tightly than was necessary. Matt didn't complain, instead, she felt his own grip tighten around her hand. Despite the brave front he was putting up, Clara could tell he was even more afraid of this meeting than she was. She wondered why that would be; the outcome of today would affect her more than him.

Her thoughts were interrupted when a door opened and Dr. Jones appeared. Her smile faded when she saw them, and Clara could see the dark circles under her eyes. It seemed to her that Dr. Jones wasn't looking forward to this meeting any more than she or Matt was. "Ah. Clara, Ms. Oswald, Mr. Smith; if you would all come with me," she held the door open.

The three of them silently filed through the doorway into a sterile hallway. Clara shivered; she could feel her memories of everything that had brought her to this place leaking up through the white tile. Part of her wanted to keep looking over her shoulder in search of Nina. She had to be here, Clara was sure of it.

She shook her head at that thought. Nina wasn't real. She knew that. Didn't she?

Clara bit her lip, and took a step closer to Matt.

Her therapist waved a hand forward. "We're just at the end of the hall."

Linda barely gave Ms. Jones a disapproving look, and Matt held on to Clara's hand the whole time. Could he feel how this place was making her heart rate pick up speed? Could he hear how her breathing was coming out in quick and shallow puffs? He must have, because she saw him glance down at her with concern.

Dr. Jones stopped next to a plain wooden door that had her name on a plaque beside it. She gave the three of them a watery smile and pulled out her keys, unlocking the door quickly and waving the three of them in first.

This is insane, Clara thought to herself, but voluntarily followed the other two into Dr. Jones' office, taking a seat between Matt and Linda on the other side of a familiar desk. She hated this place; the memories that were now rapidly bubbling up out of the walls were starting to leave a bad taste in her mouth. She clenched her fists in her lap and twisted the hem of her shirt. She wanted to leave. Now.

Her mind was racing and she could feel the room starting to spin. The blood was rushing in her ears and it was all she could do to keep herself from falling out of her chair. Clara squeezed her eyes shut, and held on to the armrests so tightly her fingers were starting to go numb. She needed to get out of here, she needed to escape, she needed—

"Alright." Clara straightened up when Dr. Jones abruptly halted her racing thoughts with a heavy sigh. The therapist sat across from them, folding her hands on top of her neatly polished desk. She kept her eyes firmly on Clara. "I hear there's been some trouble between you and your aunt, Clara. Do you want to tell me about it?"

Clara opened her mouth, but Linda beat her to it.

"Well, it's all _that_ man's fault, really!" Her aunt jabbed a finger towards Matt. "Clara stays out with that boy all hours of the night, she never calls me, she never lets me know where she is or when she'll be home, and—oh you'll love this! Last night—"

Dr. Jones held up a hand. "I believe I was speaking to Clara, Ms. Oswald."

Linda sniffed, looking outraged that the kind therapist had dared to interrupt her, but crossed her arms and said nothing.

Dr. Jones turned her focus back on Clara. "Clara? Do you want to tell me about your relationship with your aunt?"

Clara bit her lip, and looked down. She didn't want to tell Dr. Jones the truth—that she was suffocating in that house. That her aunt treated her like a child and oppressed her every decision. Linda was the last family member she had that hadn't disowned her. She could take the verbal abuse from her aunt, couldn't she? She was tough; it shouldn't bother her so much. They could work everything out, couldn't they?

Part of Clara knew that was a foolish hope. Linda was never going to see her as anything other than a nuisance. She bit her lip. Maybe if she told the truth they would be able to work everything out. She still couldn't bring herself to believe that Linda could be cruel. She was Clara's aunt; after all, maybe she would come to see how much she hurt Clara with her overprotective nature. Maybe she would see sense, and treat Clara as the adult she was.

Maybe she didn't have to lose any more family after all.

She felt Matt's hand reach out and take her own, and it was that small gesture of comfort that allowed her to look back up into Dr. Jones' eyes.

"I hate it there." Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper. "Linda doesn't seem to understand that I am an adult, that she doesn't get to make my decisions or punish me like a teenager when I do something wrong."

Her therapist gave her a sympathetic look. "That must really frustrate you."

"Yeah," Clara muttered. "It does."

They were quiet for a moment. Clara felt her heart pounding through her ribcage. She felt Linda's gaze boring into her, but kept her eyes firmly on her lap. She couldn't look at her, not yet. If she looked at her now she was going to breakdown, she knew it.

_Don't look at her, don't look at her, don't look at her_, Clara chanted to herself. But finally, after another tense second, she looked up.

Clara shrank back against her aunt's venomous glare.

"I can't believe you," Linda's aggressive hiss made Clara jump. "I take care of you! I provide for you, and I protect you. I even go out and find you a job when you were too lazy to do it for yourself, and this is how you thank me? By accusing me of being a tyrant?"

Clara shrunk farther away from her aunt, pushing against the far armrest of her seat in a vain attempt to be closer to Matt. She saw a brief look of anger flash across Ms. Jones' pretty features, and a look of pure rage in Matt's eyes.

She could feel him shaking with that anger against her, but he kept it in control.

Dr. Jones held up a hand when Linda opened her mouth to continue. "Why don't you hold off for just a moment, Ms. Oswald, I'd like to hear about what happened last night."

Linda curled her lip. "What happened last night? Oh-ho, I'll tell you what happened. Clara went to meet Mr. Smith for their usual night out, but she never came home. She didn't even call! But that's not the worst of it, Dr. Jones." She leaned in conspiratorially. "He seduced her."

"I did not!" Matt shouted. "I would never do such a thing, Ms. Oswald! How dare you accuse me of disrespecting Clara that way!" His face was bright red now, and livid with the anger he had previously kept so tightly controlled. In truth, it scared Clara a little; she had never seen this side of him before, but she liked it. He was standing up to her aunt in a way she never could. In a way no one had ever tried to before. Clara admired him for his bravery, but dug her fingers into his arm as a warning. She knew her aunt would tear Matt to shreds if he wasn't careful.

"Okay, I think everyone needs to just take a deep breath. I want you all to just breathe with me for a moment, okay?" Dr. Jones' voice was completely calm as she took in a deep breath herself. "That's it; in…and out."

They followed her directions, and Clara felt her muscles relaxing as a peaceful stillness fell across the room. She wished with all of her heart that this was the way things were: quiet, peaceful, still. Maybe then this whole mess would go away on its own so she wouldn't have to deal with it anymore. Maybe then Clara would be able to think in straight lines again, maybe then she could feel free again.

But of course, it couldn't last.

"Now," her therapist continued. "Matt, Clara, what happened last night?"

The two of them shared a look, and she could see the questions in Matt's eyes. She knew he was wondering how much he was allowed to share, and she was thinking the same thing. Their Wednesdays were private; they both seemed to agree upon that, so how much could they tell Linda and Ms. Jones to ease their concerns?

"Well," Matt started, "it really just started out like any other Wednesday night. The two of us met up at the Timberyard, and then I drove us over to the park to go duck watching."

"_Feeding_," Clara corrected under her breath.

Matt gave her a sideways glance, "Right. Anyway, we were almost there when there was a car accident a street behind us…Clara? Do you want to explain what happened next?"

She bit her lip and took in a deep breath. "I had an anxiety attack. I was convinced that my mother was in that car, I had to get to her."

She heard Linda let out a snort and felt a brief stab of hurt. Her aunt had never fully accepted Clara's condition as a reality. Linda had always believed that Clara's whole diagnosis was in her head, that her niece would be able to get over her delusions if she was only a stronger person. She had told Clara that once, when she was still in the asylum.

Clara still resented her for that.

Dr. Jones reached across the desk to squeeze Clara's free hand. "That must have felt awful."

She nodded. "It would have been much worse, but I had Matt. He calmed me down almost immediately, and then took me to his flat for a quiet night in. I was too upset to do anything else, really."

Dr. Jones glanced at Linda. "So, if I'm hearing you correctly, you had a slight episode that was triggered by the car accident, and it was Matt who brought you out of it?"

Clara nodded. "Right."

"And then the two of you went back to his flat?"

She nodded again. "We did."

"What happened next?"

Clara glanced at Linda, who was glaring daggers at her and Matt. She sighed heavily, and tore her eyes away from her aunt. "We had tea, and I accidentally fell asleep while we were watching Jaws."

Dr. Jones raised her eyebrows. "That's it?"

Matt and Clara nodded. "That's it."

Clara's therapist turned her attention to Linda. "Well, Ms. Oswald, it sounds to me like Mr. Smith helped your niece through a rough night. You should be glad he was there for Clara."

Linda gaped. "How can you possibly believe that? He manipulated her! That's all the boys his age ever do—manipulate and deceive. You should know that better than anyone, _Dr._ Jones, as the therapist you _claim_ to be."

Dr. Jones' tightened her lips into a straight line. "Ms. Oswald…Linda, I assure you that I am good at my job. I would not hold a position at this institution if that were not true. More importantly, I think you have made me aware of information that is critically important for Clara's continued recovery."

Linda straightened up in her chair, staring down her nose at the therapist. She thought she'd won, Clara could tell by the smug look on her face. "Oh?" she asked haughtily. "And what's that, then?"

Clara's therapist sighed. "I think I will have to reevaluate the decision to place Clara under your care. After this meeting I'm not quite convinced that you are the best person to be her caregiver at the moment."

Linda sat staring in shock with her mouth hanging slightly open. She spluttered, "Not the right…?" Anger flashed in her eyes. "I'll have you know, Dr. Jones, that I am the most qualified person to care for _my_ niece."

Ms. Jones folded her hands back down on her desk and leaned forward. "How so?" She met Linda's gaze with a challenge in her eyes, daring Clara's aunt to defend her argument.

Linda opened her mouth, closed it, and stared Dr. Jones down.

Clara and Matt sat frozen while a few tense seconds passed by.

Finally, Dr. Jones shifted her eyes to Clara. "Clara, do you want to stay with your aunt? You are, as you say, an adult, and I have no reason to believe that you are not capable of making rational choices for yourself at this point. It's ultimately your decision. However, that being said, my earlier condition still stands. You cannot live alone. If you don't have anyone you can turn to, I can point you towards a few local facilities that can help. But as I said, it's your decision."

Linda glared at Clara. "Before you answer that let me tell you this. If you leave now, you can't ever come back. I won't ever want to see you again, do you hear me?"

Clara gave her aunt a blank stare, a numb kind of shock the only emotion she was capable of feeling at the moment. She still couldn't believe her aunt could be cruel; it just wasn't in her nature.

Linda sneered at her. "I'm the last link to family that you have, girl; try to remember that."

Clara looked away for a moment, swallowing down the lump that had lodged itself in her throat. She didn't want to do this; family had always been one of the most important pieces of her life, one of the only constants she had left. She couldn't lose the last link she had, not now, not when everything else had fallen apart around her.

Clara straightened up in her chair, her eyes set firmly in front of her. Slowly, she turned to face her aunt. Linda's expression was filled with malice and hatred, and Clara could see the gleam of triumph already in her eyes. She thought she was going to win again.

Clara swallowed again; she couldn't let Linda have this too. It was time for her to be free again. Maybe one day the two of them would be able to work everything out, but today was not that day, now was not that time.

Matt took her hand, and she pulled her gaze back over to Dr. Jones.

"No, I don't want to stay with her anymore. If it's possible, I would like to live with Matt from now on." She felt a little thrill go through her as she said the words, and felt Matt's jolt of surprise. Clara quickly turned to face him. "If you want me, that is."

He nodded quickly. "Oh yes! I mean, yes." He looked over at Dr. Jones. "I would be happy to be Clara's caregiver, if I can."

Dr. Jones looked a little apprehensive. "You realize what you're taking on, don't you? There are things you'll have to do for Clara that she cannot do herself. You'll have to keep her on a regular routine, and be deliberate in making sure she takes her medications every single day."

"I can handle it." Matt said, and intertwined his fingers with Clara's.

Clara's therapist let out a heavy sigh. "Well, if this is what you want, Clara, I see no reason to deny you. It is, as I said, your choice after all. However, I would like you to attend a few therapy sessions with me once a month for the next three months to make sure this was a wise decision, can you do that?"

Clara nodded a little too eagerly. "Yes."

Dr. Jones smiled at her kindly. "Well then, Ms. Oswald, Clara, the two of you are free to go. Matt, I need you to stay so I can file a bit of paper work on you and make sure you have the same instructions I gave to Linda when she first took Clara on."

Clara bristled at that last statement. She didn't like it when people said things like that; it made her feel as though she were some kind of animal, like a dog or a fish. She knew that wasn't how Dr. Jones had meant it, yet she couldn't help but feel a little stung by her comment.

She swallowed thickly, and followed her aunt back out into the hallway.

Linda whirled on her as soon as the door was shut. Clara backed up when her aunt moved to get right in her face. She hit the wall with a dull thud, and Linda stopped so that her nose was almost skimming Clara's face. She was almost a foot taller than her niece, and her hot breath made Clara's eyes water.

"I hope you're happy now," Linda growled. "Because I don't ever want to see you again, you disgusting whore." She spit into Clara's eyes and turned sharply on her spiky heel, marching down the hallway with quick, loud steps.

Clara wiped the wetness out of her eyes, and pulled in a shaky breath. She had just cut off the last tie to her family, and she knew it. Linda would never be able to reconcile with her now. That had been a foolish hope from the beginning, and she wondered how she had ever been able to trick herself into thinking it was possible.

Family had always been one of the most important aspects in Clara's life. Who or what was going to fill that void now?

Matt Smith.

She couldn't help the slow smile that spread across her face as he walked out of Dr. Jones' office with a file in his hands. They had won. They had gone up against Clara's worst enemy, so to speak, and they had won. He picked her up and spun her around in a wide circle, nearly knocking them both into a plastic ficus in the hallway.

"We did it Clara!" he cried happily.

"We're free!" Clara shouted back, giggling against his neck until he set her down.

They stood staring at each other for a moment, just taking a pause to let the events of the past day register with them. That was when Clara realized something important.

Her eyes widened. "Oh God, now I have to go back to her flat to pack up my things…"

Matt smiled, and cupped her cheeks gently. "Hey, no, don't worry about that. I'll get Amy and Jack to help me take care of that. You can go back to the flat." He grinned.

Clara smiled timidly. "Thanks, Matt."

Matt smiled, and then smacked his forehead. "Oh! Hold on just a moment," He rummaged around in his pockets until he came up with a shiny key. "This, is for you. Just leave the door unlocked once you get home, and pick up the spare from under the rug. You can keep that one."

Clara's smile widened as she took the small key into her hands. "Should I be in awe or something?"

Matt snorted, and rolled his eyes. "Yes, Oswald, you definitely should."

She grinned. "Well then, consider me wowed by this honorable gift."

He smiled, and took her hand.

* * *

Clara waited for him and his friends to come back to the flat for four hours. She wondered what could possibly be taking them so long. It wasn't as though she had a lot of things that needed to be moved. It was just one small bedroom, really; how long would it take?

Part of her knew that what she was doing now was an absolutely insane decision to make. She had just cut herself off completely from her family for a man she had only met a month ago. Clara knew she would start to have a full-scale anxiety attack if she allowed herself to think about that for too long.

She was moving in with a man she had only met a month ago. But, really, what other option could she have taken? She would never go back to the asylum if she could help it, and anywhere else was better than her Aunt Linda's. Matt was her friend, he wasn't going to do anything to intentionally hurt her while she lived here. Or at least, that was what Clara told herself.

Apparently moving her things took a lot longer than Clara had originally thought, because it wasn't until another hour and a half later that Matt arrived back at the flat, boxes stacked up in his arms.

He poked his head around one of the boxes and smiled. "Hi there, sorry it took so long. Your aunt had a few choice words to say to us, especially me."

Clara rushed forward to take the top box away from him, and only then saw the red mark on his cheek. "She _hit_ you?"

Matt shrugged as they set the boxes down in the lounge. "She might've, yeah. It doesn't hurt anymore, though."

She blinked and reached up, only to pull her hand back at the last second. "Let me get some ice for that."

"No, its fine, I promise."

They were interrupted by a loud bang. "Somebody want to help me?" a distinct, gruff Scottish voice asked.

Clara and Matt rushed forward to help the woman with vibrant red hair and long legs. Clara gave her a tentative smile as she took one of the boxes. "You must be Amelia Williams." She felt the blush creeping into her cheeks. She had known Matt was friends with her favorite author, but the fact that she was meeting the woman herself was leaving Clara a bit star struck.

Amelia smiled at her kindly. "Call me Amy. You must be Clara." She extended a hand that Clara took a little too eagerly. Amy leaned in conspiratorially. "He hasn't shut up about you since he met you, yah know."

Clara grinned and blushed. "Really?"

They were interrupted by another loud thump, "Oi! Either of you ladies wanna help a fella out here?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "Oh, do man up, Jack." She turned to help the man behind her.

Clara was taken aback for a moment. Jack was American, she could tell by the accent, and had to be one of the most handsome men she had ever met. He had a very well defined figure, with sharp facial features and bright blue eyes.

He gave her a coy smile and held out his hand. "Hey there, name's Jack Harkness, and might I say it is a real _pleasure_ to meet you, Clara Oswald."

Clara couldn't help it, she blushed. "Likewise, Mr. Harkness."

He smirked. "Oh, please, call me Jack."

"No!" Matt called as he passed by Jack on his way back into the flat.

Jack huffed loudly. "I was only saying hello!"

Amy smiled as she rejoined them in the hallway, giving Jack's shoulder a firm pat. "Oh, my dear captain, saying hello for you is still flirting."

Jack rolled his eyes, and shoved past them into the apartment.

Amy and Clara laughed, and the other woman slung an arm around Clara's shoulders. "I think there are only one or two more things for us to bring up."

Clara grinned as Amy pulled her down the stairs. "Is he always like that?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "Yes. It gets old quickly, trust me."

Clara laughed a little as they walked out of the building and pulled the last few boxes out of Matt's car. "So how long have you all been friends, then?"

Amy stopped to think. "Oh, I dunno…a while, I guess you could say. Jack and I were in a foster home with Matt for a bit, right before he was adopted by the Tylers, actually. He must've been…fifteen, I think? I dunno; you'll have to ask him."

As soon as the two girls stepped foot into the flat a loud cracking sound echoed from the kitchen. "Jack!"

"What? All I'm saying is she's attractive!"

Clara blushed, and she heard Matt growl. "That is _not_ what you said. Have a bit of respect."

Amy rolled her eyes and grabbed Clara's arm. "C'mon, we better break them up. Boys!"

Both Matt and Jack rounded to face the two girls as they entered the kitchen. "He started it!" Matt cried, pointing a finger at his friend.

Jack snorted and crossed his arms defensively. "Did not." His eyes trailed down Clara in a way that made her blush even redder. "She did."

Amy huffed, and lurched forward to flick both of them in their ears. Clara covered her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing as both Matt and Jack cried out in pain.

"Jesus, Amy, what was that for?" Matt demanded.

Amy glared at him. "_That_ was for pissing off Clara's aunt needlessly when we went to gather her things."

"Then why'd you flick me?" Jack whined.

Amy gave him a smirk. "Just for being you, Jack. Matt's right; Clara's one of us now. You need to show her some respect."

Matt seemed to freeze, his eyes widening as they settled on Clara.

Clara blinked, and shifted uncomfortably. "What? How am I one of you?"

Amy glanced over her shoulder. "We're all foster kids, Clara; our families either died or gave us up. Just like yours did, if I'm not mistaken." She reached out and squeezed Clara's hand. "That hasn't hit you yet, has it?"

Suddenly Clara felt as though she couldn't breathe. "No I—I'm sure that…" She pulled away from Amy and stepped backwards out of the kitchen.

Matt reached for her with a sympathetic look. "Clara, I'm sorry."

She shook her head and took another couple of steps back. "No, just…just…" She let her head fall into her hands. "Just don't talk about it. I can't think about it."

She felt a warm arm curl around her waist. Matt pulled her in close against him, and brought a hand up to smooth her hair back. "It's okay to feel sad, Clara."

Clara shuddered and looked up at him. "I'm not ready."

He nodded, and took her hand. "Okay, okay. Why don't we get a few of your things unpacked, ay? It'll give you something to focus on."

She nodded, and sniffed before turning to the closest box and tearing it open. She heard Matt leading Amy and Jack to the door. She felt Amy give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze as she passed Clara.

Jack stopped in front of her. "I'm sorry, Clara."

She gave him a weak smile. "It's alright."

He shocked her again by leaning forward and kissing her cheek. "Matt's a good guy," he whispered into her ear. "Take care of him for us."

Clara gave him a slight nod, and Jack grinned at her before letting Matt shove him out of the door.

She smiled to herself as she opened a few more of her boxes. She liked Amy and Jack; they weren't anything she had expected. She thought back over what Amy had said, how she was one of them now, and wondered if they would really be able to accept her so easily. She wasn't truly one of them, not really. Her family wasn't dead, and they hadn't truly abandoned her, she had walked out on them.

And then there was the ever looming fact that she was an adult, the three of them had all been kids when they were put into foster care. Unlike them, Clara hadn't ever experienced the idea of living with a family that wasn't really hers. She hadn't grown up moving around from home to home or feeling as though she didn't belong anywhere. Clara hadn't spent countless nights awake wondering when she would have to leave again, hadn't kept walls around her to keep everyone out so she wouldn't have to say goodbye all the time. She'd never had to go through life without being rooted in one place with one set of friends.

So, really, how could she be one of them?

"Hey, are you alright?" a soft voice asked.

Clara turned to find Matt staring at her, one of her picture frames in his hands. She smiled when she caught sight of the image inside. It was a photo of her mum and her on the couch in her family's small living room. It had been Clara's sixteenth birthday.

She stepped forward and gingerly took the picture from him.

She smiled. "I remember when this was taken."

Matt glanced down. "Is that your mum?"

Clara nodded. "It was my birthday, the last birthday I spent with her. She gave me this." She held up her necklace. It was a small leaf charm on the end of a golden chain. "She said, as long as I had it I would always be able to find my way home."

Matt's brow crinkled. "You must miss her a lot."

Clara swallowed, and let the necklace drop. She sniffed and picked up a box filled with her clothes. "So, am I in your spare room or on the couch?"

Matt bit his lip, but waved her up the stairs. "I trust you remember where it is."

She nodded, and stepped passed him. He stopped her with a hand on her wrist, and she glanced back. Matt's face was smooth, but his eyes were filled with concern.

"You know you're not alone, right? I'm here, when you want to talk. I know what you're going through."

Clara swallowed, and pulled her arm away gently. "No, you don't."

He seemed to deflate under words. "No, maybe I don't, but I do understand what it's like to lose the last piece of family that you have. I just want to make sure you still know that you can talk to me, off the record of course."

Clara snorted. "Thanks."

"No, Clara, that's not—" Matt growled out his irritation, and ran a hand through his hair. "What I mean to say is…"

Clara waited.

Matt swallowed. "Is…"

Clara sighed heavily when he still couldn't continue, and made her way over to the stairs. "It's been a long day, Matt, I'm going to sleep."

She heard him sigh. "Yeah, okay." She didn't look back when she heard him mutter something under his breath, and quickly shut herself into her new room.

Clara let the box fall out of her arms, landing with a loud bang on the floor. She pulled in a deep breath, and let herself sink down onto the bed.

Clara closed her eyes, and finally allowed herself to cry.


	9. Chapter 9: Toxic

**Hi there. I just wanted to say before we get started that I do _not _hate River. Actually, she's one of my favorite characters. Unfortunately the role she needs to fill in this story won't paint her in the best light...**

**Thank you to all of my readers and reviewers. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Toxic.**

It really had all started with that first kiss.

No, not his first kiss in the library, although that probably had affected the situation he was in now in some way. Nor was it the kiss they shared on the steps of the grand Washington Library. Nor was it the many they shared in between those times, or the few they had afterwards.

When Matt really thought long and hard about it, it wasn't even the searing kiss they had shared in her flat tonight. No, this kiss was much simpler than that, much less…momentous. And yet, it could quite possibly be the single moment that had started this complicated mess he had gotten himself into.

He shouldn't have asked her to coffee. Matt should have resisted the urge to call her, as he had done countless times before, and called Jenny or David or Rose instead. He should have taken a walk, or curled up with a movie on his couch, or listened to one of his many CD's, or shut himself back up in his study and gotten back to work.

What he most certainly should _not_ have done was taken up her suggestion for lunch later that week, or dinner the next, or that movie a few days afterwards. Matt shouldn't have gotten caught in this trap again, and he certainly shouldn't have taken River up on her offer of dinner at her flat.

But he did, and so here he was, in her home, a month after he had first contacted her.

His mind raced as he stared up at the ceiling, how could he find himself here again when he swore he was never coming back? How could he be here, in this flat, in this bed, when his heart still belonged to another?

Matt had sworn he would never allow River Song to manipulate him back into this situation ever again, and yet here he was.

Matt pulled an arm behind his head, and turned to look at her sleeping face. River had one hand on his bare chest, and the other tucked up under her pillow. Matt pursed his lips as he stared at her; she had always looked best while sleeping. The sight had always reminded him of why he fell for her in the first place.

He reached over to brush back a piece of her wild hair, and for a moment his fingers were met with a very different lock, one that was a dark brown and silky instead of curly and blond.

Matt clenched his fists and turned away from River. He could see her, in his head; he could see her every time they had touched. Every kiss, every whisper, had been a ghost of her. And if he were being completely honest with himself, Matt knew he wasn't truly happy in this bed with this woman. Not when all he wanted was to be with someone else. Not when he wanted those touches to come from a different set of hands, for those kisses to grace him from a different set of lips.

Not when he wanted for those eyes not to be a piercing blue-green, but a soft and rich chocolate brown, and most certainly not when the numb feeling that had begun to take root in his heart was spreading over his limbs like an anesthetic.

_"That's it; in…and out,"_ her voice whispered, her hand sliding around his middle.

But no, it wasn't her. It wasn't her hand and it wasn't her body pressed against his. And instead of the comfort he knew he should feel from her being curled around him, all Matt felt was a cold anxiety that shot through his veins with every heartbeat.

River Song wasn't his Clara.

She never could be.

* * *

**One Month Previously…**

Matt didn't know what the hell he was doing here.

He was sitting in the Timberyard, his hands tucked around a full steaming mug of coffee, waiting for River Song to show up. _River Song._

What was he thinking?

Moreover, why had he suggested this place? This was their place—his and Clara's. Not River, he never should have invited her here. He never should have called her period, and yet here he sat.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, and took another sip of his drink. "What have you done now?"

It was at this exact moment that River decided to show up.

She stepped in, all high heels and leather, and shook out her blond curls. Matt could only stare as she scanned the crowd for him, and then let a feline smile curl around her lips when her sharp eyes finally settled on his booth.

He gulped, and tried to smile back as she sauntered over his way.

Matt could imagine what Clara would be thinking right now. She wouldn't have like the way River's eyes sparked when she saw Matt, she would've stiffened when River didn't bother with the seat across the table, but instead chose to plop herself down right next to him. Clara would have raised both eyebrows up to her hairline when she saw River give Matt a coy smile and a flirty nudge.

Oh yes, she would've hated this.

"Aren't you going to say hello?" River demanded after a second too long of silence between them.

Matt jumped. "Oh, um, yes…hi, River."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, that's certainly not the hello I would've envisioned."

He shifted uncomfortably. "Well…"

River cocked her head, looking him over with curious eyes. Matt hated it when she would do this. She had always been far too good at reading people, and she seemed even better at it when she focused on him.

He remembered the days when he had loved that about her, when it was a private joke between the two of them. Matt would point someone out on the street and River would give him what she could observe, then the two of them would make up a backstory to laugh over. It was all a game, fun.

Until it wasn't.

Finally, her eyes caught on the silver band around his finger. She blinked, and stood. "Oh, I'm so sorry." She backed up to the seat across from him with a deep blush along her cheekbones. "I'm sorry Matt, I didn't realize."

He held up a hand. "No, it's okay, don't apologize. I forgot I had it on." Matt chuckled a bit and stared down at his hand. Should he take it off? Clara wasn't here, and it wasn't as though she was ever coming back.

The thought made him a little nauseous, and he chose to leave it on. Matt already felt like he was betraying her, he wasn't going to sacrifice anything more for this reunion.

The other ring around his neck suddenly felt heavier. It was her ring, warm against his chest, reminding him of why he was here.

Why was he here?

River studied him, her eyes just as intimidating as ever. "What happened to her?"

Matt jumped, looking up at her with wide eyes. "How do you know something's happened?"

She smirked. "Telling would be cheating."

_Spoilers_; the word popped into his head before he was able to stop it. But that was from another time, in a situation wholly different from the one he was in now.

He swallowed, twisting the ring around his finger. "She…she died."

River waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. After a moment she took the hint. Matt jumped again when he felt her warm hand on his. Part of him wanted to pull away, to snatch his hand out from hers and run out of here as fast as he could. And yet another part of him, a part that the rest of him screamed at to be quiet, wanted to turn his hand over and intertwine their fingers.

Matt held down the scream that threatened to tear him to shreds. He couldn't do this now; he couldn't show her the weakness inside of him. She wouldn't accept it.

He looked up, and was surprised to see that River's eyes had softened. "What was her name?"

Matt cleared his throat. "Clara. Clara Oswald."

She grinned at him. "I like it, Clara Smith."

Matt looked away when she corrected him. It was true, of course; Clara had chosen to change her last name when they were married. But to hear it, to hear that proof that she was part of him out loud nearly broke him into pieces; he wanted—needed to distance himself from her. If he didn't do that Matt wasn't sure he would survive.

That thought made him want to cry. He was supposed to _want_ her to be part of him, wasn't he? He was supposed to be happy. With her. For the rest of their lives.

Where had it all gone wrong?

They sat in silence for a moment.

"So." River straightened up. "Tell me all about this Clara."

They spent most of the afternoon tucked inside of that coffee shop. River listened with sincere interest as Matt told her everything he could about Clara. He went through the story of how they met; glossing over many of the more personal details, keeping the fact that she was diagnosed with a mental illness to himself. He could see that River knew he wasn't telling her the whole story, but she never asked for more. That had always been the silent agreement between them, never to ask. It had probably been what ruined them, Matt knew, but in this moment he was grateful for the arrangement.

Finally, as the story wound down to its end, Matt quieted. The shop was still a bustle of activity around them, and he stared out at the crowd, waiting for River to say something.

"Matt," she said quietly, and waited until he looked at her. "Why did you call me?"

Matt opened his mouth, but the words got stuck in his throat. He didn't know, that was the truth, he didn't know what had possessed him to call her. The woman he'd sworn never to see again.

"The last time I saw you, you swore we would never meet again," she whispered, and he could see the hurt still there in the back of her eyes. "You said that being with me was killing you; that you needed to be free."

_You're the woman who kills me._

Matt looked down at his hands. "I did say that, didn't I?"

She snorted, and crossed her arms. "Do you ever feel like we keep meeting in the wrong order? I mean, look at us." She let out a bitter laugh. "I always feel like you're four steps ahead of me and I'm two behind. You keep growing and changing and looking towards your future, while I stay here, trapped by my past."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I follow."

River looked down at her hands. "Matt…John. I went back to Simeon, after you left."

Matt's eyes shot up to her. "What?"

She avoided his eyes. "I had nowhere left to go, and no one who would take me in. Even Amy wanted nothing to do with me! What was I supposed to do?"

"Not go back to _him_, that's for sure! River, what were you thinking?" Matt wasn't quite sure why it mattered to him anymore. He, as she said, had left. What happened to River after that day shouldn't concern him. Especially after what she had done to him, the lies and the secrets she had kept. He shouldn't care in the slightest that one of those secrets had recaptured her, in the end. He shouldn't be bothered by it at all.

And yet, he was.

River bit her lip. She could never appear weak if she tried, but right now Matt could see how vulnerable she was feeling. Or acting; it was always hard to determine what was genuine with River.

"I told you I would, if you left. I warned you." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He recoiled, stunned by her blunt statement. It was true, she had warned him of what would happen if he left her, but at the time he was finished allowing himself to feel guilty for her choices.

Matt growled, "Why do you do this, why do you always do this to me?" He scrubbed his face, avoiding her eyes as much as possible. "Don't I already feel enough guilt?" he mumbled, low enough so that River wouldn't be able to hear him.

"I know." River's tone had softened. "I'm sorry."

Matt clenched his jaw and shook his head. "Sorry doesn't mean anything when it comes from you."

Shock pulsed through River's eyes, followed by a twisted look of sadness, and then…did he just see guilt cross her face?

Matt wanted to shake his head again. River Song would never feel guilty for anything she did, no matter how horrible it may be.

"Will you never forgive me for that?" Her whisper was so quiet that Matt almost couldn't hear it over the noise of the café.

"Are you still with him?" Matt demanded.

She huffed. "You're avoiding the question."

"So are you."

River glared at him, and they stared each other down. This was their MO really: secrets, lies, argue, repeat.

He gave in first, sighing heavily and letting his head fall into his hands. "How could you expect me to?"

She swallowed, and grabbed her purse, but stopped. "I asked it before, and I'll ask it again. If you can't forgive me, Matt Smith, then why did you call me?"

Matt could only stare at her.

River closed her eyes and let out a weary breath before standing up. "I'm not, by the way. I left him a year ago. He was arrested by the American police."

She waited for him to say something, and when he didn't she turned to leave. Without thinking, Matt's hand flew up to grab her wrist. She stopped, and turned to stare at him with wide eyes. His grip was familiar to her, he knew, and it scared her.

He stamped down on the tiny part of him that liked that reaction, and pursed his lips. Finally, he allowed himself to slowly look up.

"I can't forgive you _yet_."

A tentative smile crossed her face, and she cautiously leaned down to give him a peck on his lips.

Maybe that was the moment when he lost it. Maybe it was that one, chaste kiss in the middle of a café full of people who were oblivious to them and each other. These clueless people who glanced at the couple, and quickly turned away out of some form of misguided politeness.

Matt really wished one of them would notice how afraid he felt.

River's smile widened when he didn't push her away, and he could see a hint of the triumph he knew all too well in the back of her eyes. She hesitantly stroked his cheek with the back of her fingertips and pulled away.

"Meet me for lunch sometime," she said.

He smirked, and let go of her wrist. "Call me." The words burned his mouth but he didn't take them back. He couldn't anyway, even if he wanted to.

Matt knew he was going to be sick now.

He watched her walk out of the shop, an extra sway in her hips as she pulled up her coat and ran back out into the rain. He could feel old memories being stirred up again; the familiar desire, the lust, the intrigue. He had only just spoken with River Song and already he was contemplating the idea of calling her up for lunch later that day.

That was his problem: Matt was a junkie, and River was his drug of choice. It wasn't healthy, and he knew it would never last. He would always end up being the one with scars in the end. For now, however, he was going to let it slide. He needed the promise of his next hit, after all.

He glanced around at the other tables, his eyes roving over the crowded shop until he settled on a young woman sitting alone by the window. Her hair was dark, maybe a shade or two off from Clara's, and she was clutching a mug of hot chocolate in one hand while furiously typing on her computer with the other.

She looked up, and Matt jumped. For just one instant he could have sworn it was her. There were the same elven features, the same dark brown eyes…

But then he blinked, and the vision was gone.

Matt hurriedly left a tip on his table and ran for the doors. He felt as though the walls were closing in on him, as if the other customers were pressed tightly against his body in an attempt to smother him. He needed to get out, he needed to be free, he needed…he needed…

He pulled out his mobile and dialed her number with shaking fingers.

Jenny answered after only the first ring. "Matt?"

"Are you busy today?" Matt could hear the same trembling in his voice, and fought hard to bring himself under control. This was not the place for an anxiety attack.

"I'm just getting off of work, where are you?" He heard the loud bang of a car door, and an engine starting up in the background.

"I'm by the Timberyard, on my way home."

He heard her let out a relieved sigh. "Okay, Matt, just stop. Stay where you are, alright? I'm coming to pick you up."

Matt nodded mutely, and hung up his phone. He was holding the device so tightly he could feel the plastic creaking beneath his fingers. He stuffed the device into his pocket and tucked himself under one of the eaves of the building. It was cold enough that he could see his breath, and he started to register the violent tremors coming from within his chest and working their way down his body, but he didn't care. The cold made him feel alive.

He heard the footsteps as they approached him, but he didn't bother to turn around. He assumed it was just another stranger trying to get out of the rain. It wasn't until the man spoke that Matt's whole body went rigid.

"John?" The voice was gruff, strained. It was almost as though the man couldn't quite believe who he had just spoken to.

_No_. Matt squeezed his eyes shut. _No, no, just please. Don't let it be him, don't let it be him_.

_"Be brave,"_ she whispered.

He slowly forced himself to turn around.

Paul's eyes were more watery than usual, and the dark circles made his face look like it was an unnatural shade of grey. His wet hair hung limply against his temples, and his whole body seemed to sag as he stood there—as if gravity was slowly causing him to melt.

_"Be brave."_

Matt's eyes were cold. "Paul."

His father opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. "They told me you're married."

Matt flinched. "Was," he corrected in a hiss.

Paul blinked. "What happened?"

He stepped back. "Why do you care?"

His father looked hurt over the venom in Matt's tone, but unsurprised that his presence was unwelcome. "Because I'm your father."

Matt snarled, and was just barely able to keep his fist from connecting with Paul's jaw.

He clenched his fingers, and shoved the hand back into his pocket. "Don't ever say that again."

Paul's lips tightened into a firm line, and he took a small step away from Matt. Matt was glad for the space, he wasn't sure if he would be able to keep himself from punching Paul for much longer.

"Can I at least ask her name?"

Matt took in a breath to answer just as Jenny's car pulled up to the sidewalk. He snorted and glared at his father. "I have to go."

"Sure," Paul said with a defeated look in his eyes. "Take care, Matt."

Matt snorted and half ran for Jenny's car. "Yeah, sure."

Jenny sat staring at him with wide eyes as he shut the door. "Was that who I thought it was?"

"Yep, can we go?" Matt could feel his fingers shaking, the adrenaline only just now making its way through his system.

"Sure." Jenny put the car back into drive and pulled them out onto the road.

The farther they got away from the little coffee shop, the more Matt could feel himself relax. He rubbed at his face and sucked in a few deep breaths to try to slow his racing heart. He needed to calm down; he couldn't show Jenny just how bad he was. Matt needed to protect her from this.

"Do you want to tell me why he was there with you?" Jenny asked quietly, her eyes fixed on the road.

Matt let out a tired gust of air, and let his hands fall into his lap. "I didn't meet him there, he found me."

His sister nodded, but didn't look at him. "I'm sorry."

He glanced at her warily. "For?"

She swallowed, and pulled the car onto his street. "I tried to get over here the other day so I could give you your manuscript back. I'm sorry I wasn't able to." She handed him the stack of papers sitting on the dashboard.

Matt took it, but he knew that wasn't what she had meant to say. He wouldn't press her, he was too afraid of what she might say. Despite how caring Jenny was, she had never really had a great tragedy in her life. The Tyler's had adopted her when she was a young child, and she had never experienced a death in her life.

Well, not until after she met Clara.

It was due to this lack of knowledge that Jenny could sometimes be too forward when it came to grief and trauma. She didn't know when to back off.

Matt sighed, and crawled out of her car when they pulled up to his flat. "Thanks for the ride, Jen."

Her smile was hesitant. "Can I come in?"

He swallowed, but nodded. "Sure." He was the one who had called her, that meant he wanted to talk to her. Didn't it?

Didn't it? He wasn't sure anymore. He didn't know what it was that he wanted, not really.

"Do you want tea or anything?" Matt asked as they entered his apartment. "I think I've still got some jammie dodgers tucked away somewhere."

Jenny shook her head. "No, thank you."

Matt shrugged, and went to the cupboard in search of the cookies. "So how are things, Jenny?"

She let out a loud breath, "Oh, same old, same old, really. Dad told me he wants to celebrate your birthdays on time this year, and he really hopes you'll be there."

Matt froze, his hand hovering just above the box of jammie dodgers. "Do you mean at the house?"

"Sounds like it."

He grabbed the box and joined Jenny on the couch. "I don't really have anywhere else I need to be that day, do I?"

His sister bit her lip. "I think he was just worried about…"

"The anniversary," Matt finished. "I see."

They both sat in an awkward silence for a moment before Matt reached out for Jenny's hand.

"I'll be there," he promised.

She gave him a timid smile, and squeezed his hand. "I hope so."

The tension between them seemed to relax a bit when Matt pulled her into his side. Jenny tucked her head up against his neck, and they both took in a deep breath. He could hear how shaky the air coming out of her mouth was, and squeezed her shoulders.

"What is it?" he murmured.

Jenny gave a small shrug. "I miss you. I miss seeing you happy…and I miss her, probably more than you realize. We all do."

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and rubbed her arm. "I know; I know you do. I'm sorry; I know it hurt when I shut you all out."

She sat up to look at his face. "Why did you do that? We wanted to be there for you, especially mum. I think she misses you the most."

Matt shut his eyes tightly and willed away the image of Rose pleading with him to stay at their house the days before the funeral. He could still remember the hurt on her face when he had refused her, and he could still feel the stab of guilt for that decision.

He opened his eyes; Jenny was still waiting for an answer.

Matt pursed his lips. "Because…" He looked down at her confused face. Her blond hair was starting to fall out of its loose hairband, and the bags under her eyes seemed more prominent than usual. "I have to protect you," he admitted in a whisper.

Jenny's face contorted as understanding dawned on her. "That's what this is about?"

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and let out a shaky breath. "It's just…I can't impose on mum and dad's happiness, and…"

"And I'm too naïve to understand?" she finished in a tone that was surprisingly mature. She let out a huff. "Matt, I may have been adopted when I was young, but that doesn't mean I don't remember hard times. Just because I don't tell anyone about my past doesn't mean I don't have one."

Matt blinked, stunned at her reaction. Jenny smiled, and took his hand. "Listen to me when I say this. You are not imposing on anyone's happiness by needing us. This may not make sense, but we need you too. We need to see you feel sad so that we feel like we have permission to feel it too. You probably don't realize this, you being you, but Clara didn't just touch your life. She left a mark on all of us, and we're all struggling through this. Together."

Matt gave her hand another squeeze. "Thanks, Jen."

She smiled back, and kissed his cheek. "You're such an idiot."

* * *

**Present Day…**

He was an idiot, that was for sure. If there was any doubt about that fact at all, it was gone now.

Matt felt her stir beside him, and tried to shove down all the shouting in his head.

River smiled as she opened her eyes. "Good morning there."

He smiled back, although the action hurt him. "Hi."

"How long have you been awake?" Her voice was still hoarse from sleep, her hair a wild mess above her eyes.

He brushed a few strands away. "Not long." It was a lie, but he wasn't going to tell her about how he'd laid here all night thinking about what a mistake he was making. At the moment, the part of him that wanted to keep this mistake going overrode the rational part that wanted to run away as fast as he could.

She let out a small moan, and reached up to kiss him softly. He kissed her back, but pulled away as quickly as he could.

River smiled at him warmly. "What will you be up to today?"

He sighed, and wrapped his arms around her. "Well, I have to go to my parent's house to celebrate both mine and my dad's birthday. Ironically, we're born on the same day."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Well that's…different. What are the chances of that happening?"

Matt shrugged, and sat up to get dressed. "What about you? What will you be doing?"

River let out a dramatic sigh. "Oh, I dunno, a little of this, a little of that. Not much that's too _terribly_ interesting, really."

Matt saw the hint for what it was, and gave in with a huff. "Do you want to come?"

Her smile brightened. "Most definitely."

To Matt's dismay, it didn't take them nearly as long to get to his parent's house as he had hoped it would. River had actually been faster at getting ready than he had, and even despite his efforts to drag out the time it would take to get there, they still managed to arrive within an hour.

Matt shut off the car engine, and sat in the seat with his keys in hand. Jenny was already here, and he could see smoke rising out of his parent's chimney.

His heart was pounding and his mind was frozen solid. How was he going to do this? His family had hated River the first time around, they absolutely despised her now. That and it had been, what, only a handful of months since Clara had…

"Are we going in?" River broke through his thoughts.

"Yeah." Matt grabbed the gift he had brought for David and climbed out of the car.

River hopped out of her side and skipped over to take Matt's hand. He gave it to her reluctantly, and allowed her to kiss his cheek, her own hastily wrapped gift in her free hand. It was a sculpture of an old 1950's police box she'd had lying around. A gift from Simeon, she had said.

That last bit had made anger bubble up in Matt's stomach, but he ignored it. The little porcelain figure really was very artfully crafted, and he knew it would serve as a nice peace offering between her and his family.

Matt's senses seemed to be on alert as they neared the front porch. He could smell the scent of wet leaves and the salty tang of the ocean wafting through the air, along with a small hint of something cooking inside. He could hear the three of them laughing over something. Every crunch of the dead leaves under his feet seemed to further add to the anxiety building in his stomach, urging on his already too fast heartbeat.

Out of everything, however, he was most acutely aware of the warm hand wrapped around his own. Of what the reaction to that sight would be.

He dropped River's hand and took a step away.

"I can't do this," he hissed. "I can't take you in there."

River blinked. "Why not?"

He blinked with surprise. "Why—oh…" He brought his hands together and pressed them against his forehead. "Because they hate you."

She continued to stare at him. "So?"

Matt's eyes shot up. "So, they also might not take the idea of me seeing you too kindly. Especially so soon after…" His throat closed up and he shut his mouth, pulling his lips together in a tight line.

River sighed and took a step closer to stroke his face with her fingertips. "Sweetie, listen to me. I don't care. I didn't care that they hated me last time, and I certainly don't care now. I get that you're scared, and I get that presenting me as your "significant other" isn't appropriate right now." Her lips curled around the words significant other with disgust. "If it makes you feel better, I'm here as your friend. Okay? Just a friend, that's all."

He shuddered, but nodded. "Alright."

Matt nodded, and pressed their foreheads together. "Okay."

She smiled, and kissed his cheek. "Besides, this is your life, Matt. They can't hold the final say over your decisions, you know that."

He let out a weary breath, and took her hand again. The two of them finished crossing the yard and stepped up onto the front porch. Matt could feel his heart pounding against his chest as he lifted a hand to ring the doorbell. Under normal circumstances he would just walk right in.

But these were anything but normal circumstances.

He heard footsteps running for the door, and felt the nervous flutter in his stomach when Jenny laughed at something David had said.

Matt held his breath as the lock turned, and kept his eyes set firmly forward as she opened the door with a wide smile that quickly faded.

River gave his sister a flirty wave, "Hey there, Jen. Remember me?"

Jenny's expression went cold. "_River Song_."


	10. Chapter 10: Affection

**If anyone's interested, I'm on tumblr now. Find me as orchids117. tumblr .com if you want to. I'm also on Facebook under the same penname if you want to find me there. Thanks! **

**Thank you to Sassywriterchick for your review, but telling would be cheating. :) **

**I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Thanks for reading, and please, please do review!**

* * *

**Chapter 9: Affection.**

Clara couldn't remember the last time she had slept this well.

It had only been a week since she moved in with Matt, and already she was starting to feel better. Or, that's what she told herself anyway. Clara knew that no matter how much she wished it would be, moving in with Matt was not going to solve everything. There was still the fact that she had no family that would accept her now, no home to go back to should this arrangement fallout from beneath her.

That thought scared her a little.

Clara was trying desperately not to dwell on the negatives; she was here now, and that was all that mattered. She was confident Matt wasn't going to kick her out into the cold, wasn't she? Wasn't she?

Yes. It was crazy, she knew, but even though she hadn't really known Matt all that long, she felt as though she could trust him. Not completely, not yet, but enough for now. Enough that she had allowed him to take legal action and become her caretaker.

That's what scared her more than anything, really: not the fact that he was now her primary caretaker, but the fact that she had put her faith in him. Clara had learned not to trust easily, not to fall for the trap of false security and give too much of herself too quickly. It had been a hard lesson, one full of heartbreak, but she had learned.

So what the hell was she doing now?

The flat was strangely quiet as she stood and stretched. Usually she would hear Matt banging around the house by now, going about his routine to get ready for the day and blaring whatever song happened to be in the stereo. Today, however, there was only silence.

This worried Clara.

She cautiously pulled on her robe and tip-toed down the stairs to the lounge. She could see him sitting on the couch with his back facing her. His head was in his hands and his shoulders were slumped.

Clara's brow furrowed with concern, she had never seen him look so tired. So lost.

She cautiously made her way around the couch to sit down beside him, barely catching the hand that was reaching out to touch his shoulder.

Clara bit her lip, pulled it back, and waited.

Matt sniffed, and pulled his hands down to his mouth. "Thank God it's Saturday." While muffled, Clara didn't miss the slight crack in his voice. It was clear that he was hurting over something, she could see it in every muscle in his body. Matt was a live wire, as if at any moment he was prepared to run away from something, but what?

He coughed, and started to laugh. "Sorry, sorry. You should go."

Clara blinked, that hadn't been quite what she was expecting.

"Do you really want me to?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

He turned to look at her, offering a small smile. "No, no, I-I'm sorry; I'm sorry Clara, I don't mean...I just…" Matt let out a shaky sigh and clenched his fists. "Today is not a good day."

"Why?" She murmured, finally allowing herself to reach out for him.

He let her squeeze his arm, and bit his lip. "Because…" He trailed off, letting his hands fall together. Matt sucked in a sharp breath of air and looked away from her. "My mum died today. When I was only fourteen, she…" He pulled in a shaky breath. "She jumped off a building."

They both sat still for a moment, each waiting for the other to speak.

Clara cut through the tension with a soft sigh. She reached around to pull him into her side, giving his shoulder a good squeeze. "I'm sorry."

Matt sniffed, but said nothing. Clara pulled her fingers through his hair, giving him as much silent comfort as she could. She didn't know what to say, didn't know if there was anything she could say that would make this particular ache feel any better.

There was nothing to say, that was the truth of it. No words could possibly help in this situation. And although she could empathize with him, Clara knew she would never truly be able to understand what he was feeling. She may have lost her mum, yes, but everyone experienced grief differently. And, even more importantly, her mum hadn't taken her own life. She didn't choose to leave Clara behind—she was taken from her.

Clara wondered what it would be like to have someone you loved commit suicide. Someone close to you, someone for whom you deeply cared. She couldn't imagine it, couldn't understand how anyone would ever be able to do that. She couldn't understand how Matt's mum could choose to leave him.

She pressed her forehead to his cheek. Maybe she could understand, in some small way. Maybe she could understand what it felt like to have your parent choose to leave you. After all, isn't that what her dad had done to her?

No, Clara knew it was wrong of her to compare her situation with her father to Matt's with his mum. The two events were completely different, and what led to them was incomparable. Clara instantly felt guilty for even trying to equate her experiences with Matt's. This was his grief, she shouldn't try to take it from him by comparing it to something not even remotely similar.

Matt pulled away slightly and, without thinking, Clara kissed his forehead.

He smiled at her, and pulled her against him as they settled into the couch. She allowed him to hold her tightly, drinking in his comforting scent as the minutes ticked by in a peaceful stillness. Clara could hear his heart beating just underneath her ear, and she reached out to take his hand. Matt gave her fingers a quick squeeze, and let out a deep breath.

"Thank you," he muttered.

Clara smiled warmly. "You're welcome."

* * *

The next few days in the flat passed quietly. Matt spent most of the time at home shut up in his room, and Clara made sure to stay out of his way. She knew he needed space to recover, space to grieve. She was the same way when her mum's anniversary came around.

Clara shook her head, reminding herself not to compare.

It was a quiet Thursday afternoon. She was alone in the flat and Matt was off at work. Jack had told her a few days ago that their boss was considering giving Matt a promotion, which would allow him to write the pieces he had been dreaming of for so long now. Clara wanted to tell him so badly, if only to cheer him up, but Jack had sworn her to secrecy. She had, reluctantly, agreed.

It was on this dull Thursday afternoon that someone rang the buzzer.

"Yes?" Clara asked through the speaker.

"Clara, hi, is Matt home?" the rough Scottish voice greeted her.

"No, is there something I can do?"

"Well," Amy grunted, "I brought something over I thought might cheer him up. Would you mind letting me in?"

"Sure!" Clara granted Amy access to the apartment, going for the door to let her in.

Amy smiled as she walked up the stairs. She had a large bowl of yellow custard balanced precariously on her hip and two packages of frozen fish fingers in her other hand.

Clara had given her a confused look. "What's this?"

Amy gave her a small smile as she stopped in front of the door. "It's his favorite. His mum used to make it for him when they still lived with Paul… I always bring him some when the anniversary rolls around, makes him smile a bit."

Clara took the snack from her. "Would you like to come in?"

She shook her head. "Oh no, he'll get grumpy when he finds out I've been here. I think I'll leave you to deal with him this time."

Clara snorted. "Gee, thanks."

Amy laughed. "Don't worry; he'll be fine in a day or so. His birthday is coming up on the twenty-third. That usually cheers him up some."

Clara raised her eyebrows. "He told me this Saturday was David's birthday."

"Well, he would. They share a birthday."

Clara laughed, "Oh, poor Doctor. That must be rough; I would hate to share my birthday with someone."

Amy raised her eyebrows. "What did you just call him?"

Clara blinked. "Uh, Doctor. Sorry, it's a nickname I gave him…don't tell him you know about it. He's embarrassed enough when I use it."

The tall redhead only gave her a mischievous smile. "Good to know."

Clara's eyes widened as Amy spun on her heel and half ran down the stairs. "No, wait! Amy! Amelia!"

Amy only laughed and waved her hand. "Bye, Clara!"

Clara watched her slam the door and run towards her car. She let out an irritated groan, and allowed the back of her head to bounce against the wall. Matt was never going to forgive her if he found out she'd accidently told Amy about the nickname.

She huffed and went to put Amy's gift into the fridge.

Clara put one of Matt's many CD's into the player and went back into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. She sang along to The Beatles song that was crackling through the speakers, moving around the kitchen as she gathered ingredients for dinner. She wanted to make something special for Matt to cheer him up.

Clara had just pulled the roast out of the oven when the front door opened.

"I'm home!" Matt cried, and she heard something thump to the floor. "And something smells delicious. Clara?"

Clara smiled to herself as she finished setting the table. "I'm in the kitchen!"

Matt stopped at the doorway, and folded his arms. "What's all of this?"

Her smile faltered a little. "Well…I know you've been feeling down and I thought I'd cook you something to cheer you up…Amy brought your favorite over for dessert, although I don't really understand how anyone could find _fish fingers and custard_ as anything other than, well, gross, but hey—"

Matt stopped her babbling with a bear hug that knocked all of the air out of her. "Thank you," he murmured into her hair.

Clara hugged him back. "Yeah, of course."

She felt his grin widen into a full on smile as he pulled away. "Let's eat!"

The flat was filled with laughter as the two of them ate their dinner. Matt was blasting a song she couldn't name, and using his hands to tell her stories about Amy and Jack from their days at university.

He leaned in, his eyes widening as he got to the climax of a particularly racy story about Jack and a former classmate. "So then Gwen's boyfriend, Rhys walks in—"

"No!" Clara's hand flew up to her mouth. "And they were…?"

"Both still handcuffed to each other, yes. You should've seen his face! Jack tried to explain, and I think we all thought Rhys was going to murder him right there!" Matt collapsed into a fit of laughter, and Clara joined him. They were both sitting over a bowl of custard with fish fingers in hand. Matt had somehow convinced her to try the snack, and Clara had to admit, it wasn't half bad.

She took another bite as their laughter died down. "I'd like to say I feel sorry for Jack, but I really don't. I'm surprised he hasn't been murdered by jealous boyfriends...or girlfriends...or, anyone, really."

Matt chuckled. "Jack was lucky Amy still had the key."

Clara laughed again. "I don't know if I could imagine Jack Harkness ever looking scared of anyone."

"Oh, I think he was more scared of what Gwen would do to him than anything Rhys could do." Matt grinned. "She could be…scary, if she wanted to."

Clara giggled. "I'm sure."

They were quiet for a moment, each staring off into space. Matt finished off his fried treat and picked up the bowl of pudding. "May I?"

She snorted and waved a hand. "Go ahead."

He licked his lips happily and drank the rest of the custard straight from the bowl. Clara raised her eyebrows, watching him with amusement. It was these moments with Matt that she loved the most, the ones where he was more of a gangly five-year-old than an adult. It was this innocent side of Matt that could make her forget all of her troubles with a simple joke or a smile. It was these kinds of moments, where he viewed her as nothing but Clara, that she knew she had made the right choice to trust him. He didn't see her as a problem to be taken care of or a child who couldn't handle herself. To him, she was an equal, she knew.

Clara smiled to herself, it was this childlike side of Matt that made her feel whole again.

She laughed when he put the bowl down.

"What?" he demanded.

She waved a hand around her mouth. "You've got a little…"

Matt brought a hand up to feel the gooey mustache that had lodged itself around his upper lip. He chuckled a bit and licked it clean. "Better?"

Clara smiled, and nodded. "I think you got it."

They sat smiling at each other until Matt reached out to take her hand. "Thank you, seriously."

She squeezed his hand. "Well, don't thank me for the dessert. That was all Amy."

Matt gave her a lopsided grin. "I'm just glad you're a better cook than she is."

Clara rolled her eyes. "I'm sure she isn't that bad, Matt." He had gone on and on to her about Amy's lack of cooking skills, making her laugh at stories about the redhead's adventures in the kitchen. She was almost sure he had fictionalized the one about the peanut butter in the air vents.

He laughed, "No, seriously! Don't ever let her anywhere near a kitchen. She'll burn your house down before she makes anything even remotely edible."

They sat quietly for a moment or two before Clara jumped up from the table. "Wait here, I have something for you."

Matt raised an eyebrow, but stayed put. "Should I be worried?"

Clara rolled her eyes and thwacked the back of his head on her way back into the lounge, "Oi! Be nice or I won't give it to you at all."

She heard Matt laughing as she snatched his present—hastily wrapped in plain brown paper and tied together with twine—and ran back to the kitchen.

She plopped the box down in front of him with a wide grin. "Happy early Birthday, Matt."

He blinked. "How do you know my birthday is coming up?"

Clara shrugged. "Amy may have mentioned the fact that you share a birthday with your dad while she was here. Open it."

He gave her a wary look before tearing into the paper. She watched eagerly as he pulled the box free and opened the lid.

Matt looked up at her with a beaming smile on his face. "I love it."

She grinned, "Thought you might."

He pulled the purple bowtie out of the box and held it up. "Really, it's perfect. How did you even find it?"

Clara shrugged. "It's not that hard to find a bowtie, Matt."

He stood, and yanked her up into another hug. "Shall I put it on?"

She grinned and took it out of his hands. "Allow me."

Matt stood still as she removed the tie he already had on and wrapped the new one around his neck. He watched her as she concentrated on tying it, her tongue poking out from between her lips as she made sure not to pull it too tightly.

Matt grinned, and stepped back to twirl a bit. "So? What do yah think?"

Clara laughed and clapped her hands. "It's perfect, so you."

Matt grinned and reached up to fiddle with it proudly. "It is, isn't it? Bowties are cool."

Clara rolled her eyes, and moved to clear the table. "Whatever you say, Chin Boy."

He gave her an astonished look. "They are!"

She laughed. "Just help me clean up, yeah?"

They cleaned up the kitchen quickly. Well, they would have cleaned it quickly, if Matt hadn't decided to flick Clara with dishwater. That led to a whole water fight between them, and by the time they were finished washing up the mess, both Clara and Matt were dripping wet.

He smiled at her as they stopped at the bottom of the stairs, swiping away a water droplet that had lodged itself underneath her eye. "I have to stay up for a bit to catch up on some work."

She gave him an affectionate pat on the cheek. "Alright, don't be up too late."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Yes, _mum_."

Clara laughed, and gave him a quick hug. "Sleep well, Doctor."

His smile softened. "You too, my impossible girl."

She blushed over the use of his nickname for her, and gave him one last smile before heading up the stairs.

She was halfway to her room when she heard something behind her thump. "Oh, Clara!"

She stopped, and looked at him. Matt stood for a moment with his mouth open, before closing it into his trademark smirk. "Sleep well."

She smiled back at him, and ran the rest of the way to her room.

* * *

"But what if they don't like me?" Clara whined.

Matt rolled his eyes and drove them out onto the motorway. "They'll love you, Clara, trust me."

She fiddled with the hem of her dress and bit her lip. "Still feel like I'm intruding though. I mean, it is your dad's birthday after all. Should I even be there?"

Matt huffed. "Yes, because it's my birthday too, and I want you there. Besides, they already know you're coming. I've told them all about you."

Clara's eyes shot to him. "What?" she squeaked.

"Oh, relax. They're all excited to meet you, especially Rose. She hates seeing me alone. She was beyond excited when I mentioned that I was bringing along a girl this year." He glanced at her, and reached over to rub her shoulder soothingly. "You'll be fine."

"But—"

"_Clara Oswald_, stop worrying. You're lovely, and I'm sure they'll all see that. Besides, they know you're important to me. They'll be on their best behavior, I promise." He gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't you trust me?"

She huffed, and crossed her arms. "That's just not fair, Matt."

"Don't you?"

She glared at him for a long moment before giving in with a heavy sigh. "Yes."

He gave her a brilliant smile. "Well then, I guess that's all settled. Just be yourself, it'll all turn out fine."

She huffed. "As long as "being myself" doesn't include Nina today, then yeah, should go swimmingly."

Matt's brow furrowed. "Have you been taking your meds?"

Clara sighed wearily. "Yes, Matt, of course I have."

He glanced at her. "_Clara_."

"_Matt_," she whined back. "Don't you trust me?"

He pulled his lips into a thin line, keeping his eyes straight on the road. "I do, and I would like to, but Dr. Jones warned me—" He broke off.

She crossed her arms. "Warned you about what?"

He shook his head. "Never mind."

"No," Clara stated firmly. "I want to know, she warned you about what?"

Matt glanced at her, and sighed heavily. "You're impossible."

She rolled her eyes. "And you're being a child. Warned you about _what_?"

His jaw ticked, but he gave in with a huff. "That you might try to lie about taking your medication."

Clara's expression became one of horror. "Why the hell would I do such a thing? If anything, I'm more worried about taking them than you are!"

Matt reached out for her arm, but she snatched it away angrily. They were quiet for a moment. Clara knew that her frustration was irrational, it was a valid concern on both of their parts. She should be grateful that he was looking out for her, but all she could feel was this illogical sense that he was treating her like a child, like her aunt used to. It wasn't true, she knew that, but she couldn't help crossing her arms even tighter together and jutting her lip out in a full pout.

He let out a deep breath. "You're right, you're right, I'm sorry. I'm just looking out for you, it's part of my job, yeah? I trust you."

Clara swallowed, and immediately felt guilty for her childish moment. Hesitantly, she reached out for his hand. He gave her fingers a quick squeeze, and she sighed. "I know. I'm sorry, it's just...my aunt, she used to treat me like such a kid, as you know, and...I don't know, when people say things like that I just...I..."

Matt sighed, and gave her fingers another squeeze. "I know, it's alright."

The car was silent for the rest of the drive. The tension between the two of them seemed to reach its peak as Matt pulled them up his parent's driveway and parked the car by their lawn.

Clara broke the silence by letting out a soft breath. "Wow."

Matt smiled. "I know."

She looked at him with wide-eyed curiosity, and all remaining tension diffused. "It's beautiful, Matt; this is your parent's?"

Matt laughed, and nodded. "Every square inch."

Clara opened the door and climbed out of the car, grabbing the present she had brought for David on her way out. As soon as the fresh air hit her nose she was confronted with a variety of scents. The smell of wet dirt from the mist earlier that morning, the scent of something warm cooking inside, the soft breeze that carried the smell of seawater and pine. It all smelled wonderful, the scent was clean and comforting and made Clara feel free somehow. As though she would be free to be herself here, as though she needn't ever worry about people casting their judgments on her or whispering about her when they thought she couldn't hear. Here, she could just be Clara.

She smiled, and closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath.

Matt shut his door and came around, offering her a hand. "Shall we?"

Clara grinned, and giggled as she took his hand. "Lead on, monsieur."

They walked towards the house, hand in hand, only to have the front door fly open before either of them reached the porch. Clara stepped back as a flurry of blond hair and green clothing sprinted from the front door, tackling into Matt hard enough that the two of them almost toppled over.

Matt let out a grunt. "Ah, hello to you too, Jenny."

Clara smiled, and dropped his hand so he could hug his sister properly. She felt a flutter of nerves in her heart as she watched them spin around. This was it, this was the moment she had prepared for. What if they didn't like her? Or, worse yet, what if they found out about her…her diagnosis, and couldn't accept it? What if they thought she was dangerous? A freak, something to be worried over—like glass that would break with the slightest touch.

A problem.

_Well, you are_, a little voice hissed in her ear, but she waved it off. She wasn't dangerous, not anymore, not fragile or problematic. She had herself under control, and she was going to prove that to Matt's family. And herself.

Her smile widened when Matt finally broke away from Jenny. "Jen, there's someone I'd like you to meet. This is that friend I've been telling you about. Jenny, meet Clara Oswald. Clara, this is my baby sister Jenny."

"Oi, I'm not your baby anything, Johnny boy. Watch yourself," Jenny growled.

Matt only laughed. "Just say hello, Jen."

Jenny finally turned, and glanced over Clara with curious eyes.

Clara's smile faltered, and she shifted under the critical eyes of Matt's sister. "Um, hello."

Jenny crossed her arms, shifting on her feet to get a better look at Clara. The three of them stood still for a moment, before Jenny's beaming smile returned and she yanked Clara into a warm hug.

"Welcome, Clara, I've heard so much about you. We all have, really. You're going to love mum and dad, and I think they'll like you too. Oh, we're all so glad Matt here has someone to keep an eye on him." She pulled back, her hands on Clara's shoulders. "You are keeping an eye on him, aren't you?"

Clara blinked, trying to catch up with the energetic woman. "Best I can, yeah."

Jenny grinned. "Great!" She kissed Clara's cheek and ran back towards the house. "I'll tell them you're here!"

Clara froze; her eyes wide and her heart in her throat. She turned to Matt and he laughed at her expression.

He took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. "She can be a bit of a firecracker."

She let out a breathy laugh. "Is she always like that?"

Matt shrugged. "You get used to it, eventually, c'mon."

Clara allowed him to drag her into the house. He shut the door while she got a look around. It was…homey. The place was friendly, warm and inviting. Everything was everywhere, as if a tornado had run through the place, but Clara liked it. It reminded her of Matt, in a way. The books that were scattered in piles around the walls, the papers half scribbled on that were tacked onto every available surface, the music records that crowded every free nook and cranny. All of it was Matt, right down to the carpet that was so worn Clara could feel the cold cement through her shoes.

She gave Matt a timid smile, and he took her hand. "Ready?"

Clara sucked in a deep breath, but nodded. "Yes."

He grinned, and pulled her through the house towards the kitchen. Clara could smell the warm aroma of spices and baked goods wafting out of the small room. She bit her lip, and followed Matt through the doorway.

"There's my boy!" a male voice cried.

Clara stepped back as a man dressed in a brown suit and beige sneakers came to pull Matt into a friendly embrace. Beyond them, Clara could see a woman with blond hair and a kind face stirring a pot. She smiled at Clara and gave her a friendly wink.

The two men clapped each other on the back before pulling apart. "Nice to see you again, my boy," David grinned, his dark eyes sparkling and his smile wide. "Is that for me?"

Matt smiled, and handed him a carefully wrapped present. "I'm sorry it's been so long." He reached back and pulled Clara forward gently. "I'd like you and Rose to meet someone special: Clara Oswald."

Clara smiled timidly, blushing slightly over Matt's emphasis of the word special. "Hello."

David's manic smile softened as she came into view. "Clara, we've heard a lot about you." He opened his arms and greeted her with a gentle hug. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Clara grinned. "You too, Matt's told me all about the three of you."

"All good things, I hope." Rose gave Matt a playful glare before holding her hand out to Clara. "Hi, name's Rose. It's nice to meet you. Matt doesn't bring girls home often, we were starting to worry he was going to end up alone."

Clara let out a nervous laugh as she took Rose's hand, and she saw Matt blush.

"Oi, I'm sure Clara doesn't need to hear any of that." He gave Rose a warning glance.

His mum immediately quieted and went back to the stove, giving Matt a slight glare on her way there.

Clara's eyes narrowed over the exchange, but she said nothing.

Jenny popped into the kitchen then with her arms full of what appeared to be rosemary. "This enough, mum?"

Rose glanced at her. "More than plenty, come help me chop it up?"

Clara bit her lip nervously. "Could I help?"

Rose gave her a beaming smile. "Sure! Grab a knife; they're in that drawer to your left."

David moved to kiss Rose on the cheek. "Well, I think we'll leave you girls to chat while Matt and I catch up. Call us if you need anything?"

Rose swatted his side. "No you don't. I'll not have you two sitting on your backsides while we women—including your lovely guest, Matt—work in the hot kitchen. You two go fetch me some eggs from the henhouse, yeah?"

David pushed his lip out in a pout. "But it's our _birthday_, Rose, couldn't Jenny do that?"

Rose turned to glare at him darkly, placing her hands on her hips. "If you don't behave, I'm not going to make the special chocolate cake I had planned. With bananas in the center, may I add."

Both David and Matt let out a melodramatic groan before shuffling their way out of the kitchen. Jenny and Clara glanced at each other before bursting into a fit of giggles. Rose grinned and joined in, bringing a hand to her mouth in an attempt to stay quiet enough that the boys wouldn't hear them laughing.

Jenny reached out to squeeze Clara's hand as soon as the three of them heard the front door slam shut. "Welcome to the family, Clara."

* * *

Clara couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so much. The four of them kept her giggling for so long that her pasta was cold long before she was able to touch it. Clara didn't mind, she wasn't here for the food anyway.

She had always wondered how Matt's life had not turned him into a bitter man. She knew—after hearing only a small part of his life story—that Matt could have easily grown up to be angry and hard, but he hadn't. And now Clara understood why. How could he have ever become anything other than what he was with such wonderful friends and family?

"So, Clara, do you work?" David asked as they finally got started on eating.

Clara swallowed, and nodded. "Yeah, at a little bookshop not too far from Matt's place."

"That must be lovely." Rose grinned, and nudged her husband. "I know one person here who would never get anything productive done in a place like that."

David rolled his eyes and waved her off. "Oh, hush, you're just as bad as me."

Rose stuck out her tongue. "Not likely."

Clara glanced away, and both Jenny and Matt rolled their eyes when David gave Rose a soft peck on the lips.

"Can you two not? We have company." Jenny huffed, and stood to take her plate back to the kitchen. "I'm sure Clara doesn't want to see any of that."

Rose smiled at Clara. "Sorry, couldn't help myself."

Clara gave her a smile back, and shrugged. "No, no, it's fine. Don't worry about me."

David swirled his wine around. "So, Matt, have you asked the lovely lady here out on a proper date yet?"

Matt spluttered, and Clara's cheeks burst into flame. "Dad!"

"What?" he demanded. "It's a fair question; you are living together after all."

"Yes, but, no! I mean, Clara's my friend, she's…" Matt waved his hands about to try to ward off David's question. "Forget it. I'm just…here." He took both his and Clara's plates and scampered away to the kitchen.

Clara blinked, and opened her mouth. "Uh…"

Rose smacked David in the shoulder. "You idiot!"

"What? It's a fair question!" David exclaimed.

Rose huffed. "Yes, but…" She gave him a pointed look. "Do you really think Matt wants to answer something like that? In front of his _beautiful_ companion?"

Understanding dawned on his face and he stood, grabbing his plate. "Ah, yes, well, I'll just go apologize, shall I? Wouldn't want anything uncomfortable to ruin this night, would we?"

Rose glared at him until he was out of sight, and gave Clara a sympathetic smile. "Sorry about all of that."

Clara found that she was having a hard time keeping track of where the conversation was going. "Don't be, I don't quite understand what just happened anyways."

Her hostess sighed heavily. "We're all just anxious for Matt. As I said earlier, he hasn't brought a girl over for a long time. The last time he did…let's just say it didn't turn out well."

Clara wanted to press Rose for more information, but was stopped by Matt rushing back in with Jenny hot on his heels.

"Come on, Johnny boy, couldn't you stay for just one night?" She whined.

Clara raised her eyebrows, mouthing 'Johnny boy' to Matt with a playful light in her eyes.

He scowled. "No, Jenny. Clara and I have to get back."

"But _Matt_—"

"Present time!" David cried, coming back into the dining room with two sets of wrapped gifts. "These are for you." He handed two of the shiny packages to Matt.

Clara watched Matt's whole face light up, making him look more like a four year old than usual.

"Go on, youngster, it's your year." David urged Matt on while shaking one of his presents by his ear. Rose smacked his hand, raising her eyebrows and mouthing the word rude.

Clara gave Jenny a curious look.

She laughed. "Since they have a birthday on the same day, the two of them switch off on who gets what first, whose favorite foods get made, stuff like that. It was dad's turn for cake this year, so Matt gets to open his presents first."

Matt let out a short laugh. "It's perfect!" He pulled the fez out of its box and neatly placed it on his head. "Thanks Jen!"

She grinned, and giggled. "No problem."

He looked over at Clara, fixing the bowtie she'd given him and waving his hands. "Well? What do yah think, ay?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Do you really want me to answer that on your birthday?"

Matt's childlike face melted into a pout. "Well, thanks." He grabbed the other present in front of him, sticking his tongue out at her.

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks Matt, real mature there."

David and Rose sat smiling at them, and Clara didn't miss the pointed look that passed between them. She bit her lip, and tried to hide her blush.

"You're mum picked this one out, but it's from both of us." David said. "A little family heirloom I had lying around."

Rose nudged David. "Don't listen to him; he had more to do with it than I."

Matt lifted the lid of the box, and his eyes widened. He looked up at his parents with surprise in his eyes. "Oh, no, I couldn't take this from you."

David waved a hand. "Shut up, yes you can. You're family, Matt. I'd rather it go to you than your aunt Donna. She'd lose it in a heartbeat."

"What is it, Matt?" Clara asked.

He held up the box for her to see. Inside, nestled in a bed of soft velvet, sat a shining watch. The cover was artfully crafted in a series of circles and designs, the main body of it a shining silver and the swirling designs outlined in spidery webs of gold.

She sucked in a sharp breath; it was one of the most gorgeous things Clara had ever seen.

"Oh," she breathed. "Matt, it's beautiful."

"And it doesn't work." Jenny said softly. "Hasn't for centuries, or something like that."

"David's family has a whole family legend behind it." Rose grinned, her tongue in her teeth. "Go on, tell them."

David rolled his eyes, but eagerly leaned forward. "As the story goes, our family line can be traced back to Lord William of Gallifrey, which is said to be an island off of the Eastern shore that was lost long ago. William, supposedly, had this watch made for his wife as a wedding gift. Unfortunately, when the island went down he the only survivor. She made it off with him, but died in his arms."

"What was her name?" Clara whispered.

David shrugged. "No one knows. It's said that after her death he would not speak her name, and denounced his own. He assumed the title of Lord William and moved onto the main island." He nodded towards the watch. "He took this with him, the watch being the only thing he had left of his love and his home. It is said that his heart died with her, and he vowed never to love again. According to legend, it stopped working the same time that her heart stopped beating."

"Wow," Clara whispered, breaking the blanket of silence that had settled over the room.

"Exactly what I said," Rose laughed.

David grinned, and leaned back as the atmosphere in the room lightened. "Now, whether or not you believe the story is up to you, but the sentiment behind the gift is all the same. It's yours, Matt."

He smiled softly. "Thanks, Dad." He stood, and gave David an affectionate hug, kissing Rose on the cheek. "Thanks, Mum."

They both smiled. "'Course, sweetheart." Rose squeezed his hand. "Happy Birthday."

Matt grinned, and jostled David's shoulder. "Well, go on then, it's your turn."

The rest of their evening at the Tyler's was even more boisterous than the first half, the sounds of their laughter getting louder and louder as they all shouted over each other. And while Clara had hung back for most of the evening, she now joined in the teasing wholeheartedly. She felt relieved that Matt's family had been so accepting of her presence, and was on her way to becoming fast friends with all three of them.

It was well past midnight when Matt had finally decided to drive them home. The two of them chattered happily during the drive, Clara waving her hands excitedly to describe everything she was talking about.

It wasn't until they were back in the flat that they quieted.

Clara stopped at the foot of the stairs, covering her mouth to hide her yawn. "I think I'll turn in."

Matt smiled, and gave her a warm hug. "Thank you for tonight. You were amazing."

She hugged him back, her small arms just barely making it around his neck, "I don't know about amazing, but you're welcome. Happy Birthday, Matt."

"I told you they would all love you, didn't I?" He laughed as they parted. "You had nothing to worry about."

Clara grinned. "I like them all, too, especially Jenny."

Matt rolled his eyes. "I figured you would, you being you."

She raised her eyebrows. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

He laughed, and shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Sleep well, Clara."

She smiled, and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Sweet dreams, Matt."

Matt only stared as she ran all the way up the stairs, and Clara could've sworn she saw him reach up with one hand to caress his cheek.

She smiled, and closed her door softly. Maybe her life was coming together after all.


	11. Chapter 11: Melody

**Hi folks, big thank you to everyone whose read, followed, and favorite this story. I hope you continue to enjoy this story. :)**

**Thanks to Sassywriterchick, for your last review.**

* * *

**Chapter 10: Melody.**

**Eight years ago…**

River let out a high pitched peal of laughter, swirling her glass of wine in tight circles.

Matt grinned and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. "Mm, have I told you that I love you lately?"

She smirked. "Not today, no."

He wrapped his hands around her waist and leaned down to press the sides of his lips to her ear. "I love you."

River chuckled and pulled back to look at him. "I'm glad."

They both jumped apart as David burst into the kitchen. "Rose, I—oh, well, well, what do we have here?" He waggled his eyebrows. "Attempting to make a move, Johnny boy?"

Matt blushed and let his eyes slide away. "I—uh, that is…um, well, I mean—" He broke off and half ran out of the kitchen, feeling the blood rush into his ears as both David and River laughed at him.

In his hurry to escape, he nearly pummeled over Rose.

"Whoa there!" she cried, and steadied him by the shoulders. "You alright? You're bright red." She brought up a hand to feel his forehead.

Matt smiled, and pulled her hand away gently. "Yeah, 'm fine, dad and River just decided to embarrass me 's all."

He didn't miss the flash in Rose's eyes when he mentioned River's name. "Ah, well, you best go wash up. Dinner's almost ready."

Matt searched his mum's face for a moment. She looked, troubled, the small crease between her eyebrows deeper than normal. "Mum? Are you alright?"

She jumped, as though his question had pulled her out of a reverie, "Hm? Oh, yeah, 'm fine. Don't worry about me." She offered him a smile that was just a little too wide.

He opened his mouth to demand the truth, but she pushed passed him roughly before he could get the words out. Matt turned to watch her disappear into the kitchen, his brow crinkling with concern. The tension that had been permeating throughout the house since he and River arrived. Something was wrong between his mum and dad, he could feel it.

* * *

**Present day…**

Matt knew he was an idiot.

Of course, he had always known he was an idiot, but this stunt just proved that fact a hundred times over. He was an idiot for thinking he could get away with this, he was an idiot to believe even for a moment that he could bring her here and they would accept it.

He was simply an idiot. Could he so easily forget what this woman had done to his family? Not just him, his whole family. She had torn them apart, and Matt had at one time feared they would never come back together. The fact that they had was a true testament to Rose and David, and the strength of their marriage. The trust that they placed in one another, despite everything, was always something Matt had tried to live up to in his own relationship with Clara.

The hole in Matt's chest sent shooting pains into his heart when he thought of her name; he wished he still had someone who could love him like that.

There was a beat of silence as River and his sister stared each other down. Needless to say, Matt knew Jenny held a special kind of hate towards River Song in her heart. The fact that she hated River Song at all was, in itself, a miracle. Jenny wasn't the type of person who could dislike anyone easily, let alone hate.

There had been a time when she had loved her, when everyone had loved River.

That was a long time ago now.

"What are you doing here?" his sister hissed; her lips curled back into a snarl.

River smirked. "Matt asked for me to come, isn't that a surprise?" She started to step forward, but Jenny blocked her with one hand.

"You're not welcomed here," she growled.

River glanced at Matt, and then back at Jenny. "Oh, I think I am." She shoved passed Matt's sister into the house. "Oh, David!"

Jenny glared at Matt. "What is she doing here?"

Matt gulped. "I was…I've been…"

Jenny crossed her arms, her eyebrows raised. "Have you been seeing her again?"

"No!" Matt cried, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "No, I just—"

His sister held up a finger. "Just stop. Stop right there, don't you _dare_ lie to me."

He gulped, and glared down at his shoes. "I wouldn't, I mean, Jen I—"

Both of their eyes shot up when they heard a horrific shriek echo out of the kitchen. "Go! Get out, get out of my house!"

Jenny jumped out of the way as Rose chased River out with a wet dishtowel in one hand, and a large wooden spoon in the other. David was right behind her, a smudge of lipstick on his cheek.

Matt's heart stopped, and he lurched out of his mum's way.

"Goodness me, there's no reason to be so excitable. I was merely saying hello." River giggled.

"Hello? You think that was an appropriate_ hello_? You saunter into _my_ house years after you destroyed _my_ family and you kiss_ my_ husband, and you think that's an appropriate _hello_?" Rose's face was red with anger, flecks of gold ringing around her irises.

Matt gulped, and pulled River away. "M—maybe we should just—"

River rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't worry about it, Matt. She'll calm down in a moment, won't you, Rosie?"

The four of them froze, and three sets of eyes swiveled nervously to watch Rose's reaction.

David reached out for her shoulder. "Rose, don't do anything you'll regret."

She growled, and lunged for River. "I'll kill you! You right bitch! I'll kill you!"

"Mum!" Jenny cried, and helped David pull Rose back into the house. She stopped at the door and glared at Matt. "Get her out of here."

Matt grabbed River's wrist tightly and dragged her towards the car. "Come on."

She wrenched her hand away, but allowed him to usher her into his car. Matt glanced back at the house one more time before sighing, rubbing at his face and climbing into the driver's side.

The ride back to River's flat was filled with a tense silence. Every time she opened her mouth to say something, Matt would shoot her a dark glare.

He stopped the car in front of her place, and let out a shaky breath, his hands tightly clenched around the steering wheel.

River bit her lip. "Well? Are you even going to say goodbye?"

He turned to glower at her. "Why did you even come? I told you what would happen, why did I _let_ you come?"

She reached out and squeezed his arm, abruptly shifting tactics. "I'm sorry, Matt, I am. It isn't your fault; I invited myself, like always…"

They stared at each other for a moment, River's eyes wide and Matt's jaw ticking.

Finally, he gave in with a huff, leaning in for a quick peck of her lips. "Go home, River. I'll call you later."

"Matt I—"

He held up a hand. "Don't. Don't even try. Just get out."

She swallowed, but did as he asked. Matt kept his gaze firmly in his rearview mirror, waiting until she was inside to start up his car. He knew he had to go back; his mum would kill him if he didn't provide her with an explanation.

With a heavy sigh, he pulled out his phone. He was too much of a coward to go back there just yet, if ever. He dialed the house number, and waited.

"Hello?" David's voice was gruff and he sounded exhausted.

"Is mum still there?" Matt asked, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

David hung up.

* * *

**Eight years ago…**

It was late by the time Matt finished helping his mum clean up the kitchen. River and David had gone off to talk about some archeological discovery she wanted to show him, and he hadn't seen either of them since.

"What could they possibly be talking about that would take this long?" Matt wondered aloud.

He noticed the tension in Rose's shoulders when she shrugged. "Who knows? Knowing those two, it could be anything, really."

Matt finished drying his hands and reached out to wrap an arm around him mum's shoulders. "What's wrong? And don't say it's nothing; I know when you're lying."

Rose gave him a weak smile. "You should come around more often, John; I always forget how perceptive you are."

He smiled back at her. "Maybe I will, but stop avoiding the question."

Rose shrugged away from him and reached up to pat his cheek. "It's nothing you need to worry about, just a little disagreement between your dad and me. It'll be fine, promise."

Matt stared at her for a moment, before giving in with a nod. "Yeah, okay."

She sighed heavily and nodded towards the direction of the study. "Maybe you better check on them, yeah? I'll be right behind you in a minute."

"Alright," he muttered, and shoved out of the kitchen, shuffling his way towards the door of his dad's study wearily. He wondered, briefly, if he was going to be able to drive home without falling asleep at the wheel, and reached up to knock.

Matt stopped his hand just over the door, and smiled when he heard her laughter coming out of the study, pausing just outside of the door for a moment to listen. She didn't laugh as much as she used to these days, and every peal was a welcome sound.

The laughter stopped abruptly, and Matt's brow furrowed when he heard something squeak.

"River, what are you doing?" David asked.

"Oh, hush, they're going to hear us if you're too loud," she scolded.

Matt's eyes widened, and he jiggled the doorknob furiously, but it wouldn't budge. It was locked, more than likely by River herself.

"Get off of me." He heard David snarl as he frantically reached up along the top of the doorframe for the spare key.

He couldn't hear what River said back to David as he jammed the key into the lock and burst his way into the room.

Matt froze just inside of the room. River was straddling David's lap, her arms curled around his neck and her lips pulled into a seductive smile.

He tried to breathe, but the tightness of his chest restricted his airways, "River?" His voice was barely above a hoarse murmur.

He felt rather than heard Rose rush up behind him. Matt heard her cry of anguish, and could imagine the pain that would twist her features in a similar way that his were twisted now.

He heard her turn and run, flinching when he heard a door slam.

"Rose, wait!" David shouted, and shoved River away from him as hard as he could. She stood with a blank expression, her eyes locked on Matt's face as David ran from the room.

The two of them stood rigidly for a silent moment. It was so quiet that Matt could hear the blood pumping through him, the desperate pleas of David echoing down the stairs, the sound of the wind rushing around the house.

River opened her mouth. "Matt…"

He turned away, and slammed the door.

* * *

**Present day…**

It had almost been an entire month since he had seen them all last.

Matt sat at his desk sorting through a pile of paperwork. Around him he could hear the loud roar of voices, the sound of telephones ringing and fingers banging on keyboards. He could hear Jack flirting with someone a few feet away, but didn't even bother to look up to see who it was. He kept his focus solely upon the facts in front of him, as he had done for the past few weeks now.

He had been stupid, so stupid for forgetting about the person River truly was. So incredibly idiotic for thinking he could make it work with her again, that things would be different, that maybe his family would forgive her so that he could too.

He sighed heavily. Had he forgiven her? He was still seeing her, still so caught up in her trap that he couldn't bring it within himself to break away. She was his drug; she gave him a high like no one else could. River made him feel powerful, in control. Being with her when he knew he shouldn't was intoxicating. It took over his mind and drove his whole being towards feeling that guilt again, that ache he couldn't explain.

It was more than that, though. Matt felt almost as though this was his punishment. The one he deserved for failing her, his Clara. For not being there for her when she needed him most. She had tried to tell him, more than once, and he hadn't listened. And he knew, no matter what anyone else said; that he was at least partially responsible for her death. That he had no one else to blame but himself that he had lost her.

He should have been there; he should have seen the signs.

Matt dug his pen so hard into the paper that he tore a hole in it. He growled with frustration and threw the pen away from him as hard as he could. It crashed into the tops of the many pencils he kept in a tin on his desk, toppling them over into a picture of her, of them at their wedding.

The frame fell face down onto the floor, and Matt flinched when he heard the glass crunch. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, holding in the rage that was making his chest uncomfortably tight, and let his head fall into his hands.

"Matthew Smith!"

He jumped, and looked up into the worried eyes of Jack. He sighed heavily and kept his eyes firmly on the picture frame. "What do you want, Jack?"

His friend raised his eyebrows. "What happened here?"

Matt dared a glance up and let his eyes slide away. "Nothing," He stood and grabbed his coat, ripping the photo out of the frame and stuffing it into his pocket. "I'm going home. Tell Shauna I got sick or something."

"Yeah, sure," Jack watched him walk away with worried eyes. "Be safe, Matt."

Matt didn't look back as he shoved his way out of the building. He half ran through the parking lot to get to his car, unlocking it with trembling fingers and bouncing his leg as he started up the engine.

He didn't think, didn't even make a conscious decision on where he was going until he pulled up in front of her apartment. He knew she would be home, and he could see her peak out from between the curtains.

Matt let out a deep breath and let his head fall in his hands again. He could feel the tears stinging against his eyelids, but he was holding them back. He was done crying.

_"You're better than you think you are,"_ she whispered.

He felt the tear slip down his cheek, and wiped it away furiously. No, he wasn't doing this today. He couldn't.

Matt started up his car again and pulled away from the curb, glancing in his rearview mirror as he stepped on the gas.

She was there, watching on the sidewalk. Dark hair and dark eyes that could pierce right through him without having to try, watching him drive away.

Matt stomped on the brakes, earning him more than a few angry honks, and whipped his head around to get a better look, the tears in his eyes again.

It wasn't her. The woman was a bit taller than Clara, her hair a shade darker and her smile not as genuine. She was wrapped in the arms of a blond man, laughing happily at something he was saying to her.

Matt closed his eyes, pulled in a sharp breath, and drove away. He knew what he needed to do, and though it scared him stiff, he turned onto the road that would bring him to Rose and David's house.

He felt as though the closer he got to the house, the slower he was going. Time seemed to be pressing down on him, slowing him until he was moving through a thick vat of molasses. His eyes kept darting to the clock on his dashboard, and he regretted every glance that he allowed himself. Every minute sent more tension into his shoulders, making him slow down even more.

He finally pulled up to the house, parking in his usual spot. Matt let his head fall back against the headrest for a moment, staring at the house through bleary eyes. It looked completely the same, right down to the number of leaves scattered across the lawn.

Matt climbed out of his car, and slammed the door shut. He heard the front door of the house open, and looked up to find Rose on the porch, her arms crossed and her face hard.

He swallowed, Matt had only seen that look once or twice in his life, and every time it filled his heart with the same cold dread. It was the look Rose only gave to people when she was at her angriest.

He stopped at the bottom steps of the porch, and waited for her to speak.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded coldly.

Matt swallowed, and shifted back and forth on his feet. "I came to—"

She held up a hand. "If you say the word 'apologize' I'll make you turn around and drive away."

He bit his tongue, and glared down at his feet. "I'm sorry, mum."

Through his peripherals, he saw her arms tighten across her chest. Rose was always quick to forgive her children, and he could see she was having a hard time keeping up her angry persona now.

Matt closed his eyes, and waited for her judgement.

His eyes shot up with surprise when she hesitantly stepped off of the porch to pull him into a warm hug.

He stood still for a moment, before timidly wrapping his arms around her waist to hug her back. Rose pulled away after a minute of silent comfort between them, and slapped him across the cheek.

Matt opened his mouth in shock and reached up to touch the spot she had smacked. "Ow," he cried, cradling his cheek carefully.

"That was for not coming to us sooner." Rose growled.

He stayed frozen as she turned and hurried back into the house. She stopped at the door, and spun on her heel to face him again.

She raised her eyebrows. "Well, are you coming?"

Matt jumped, and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, be right in."

Rose gave him a slight smile and waved him inside. "C'mon, then, hurry up."

He didn't wait for her to ask him again, and breezed past her into the house. Rose shut the door and led him into the kitchen, placing a kettle on the stove.

Matt glanced around as he sat on one of the barstools. "Dad still at work?"

Rose nodded. "Yeah."

He sat quietly while she moved around, grabbing mugs out of the cupboard and setting them on the counter next to the stove.

Finally, she came to sit across from him. "How long have you been seeing her?"

Matt swallowed, and looked down at his hands. "A while."

"How long is a while?"

He couldn't bring himself to look up at her as he pursed his lips. "Two months." He listened to the silence of the room, shoulders hunched against the tension he could feel creeping out of the walls.

Rose sighed, and reached out to squeeze his hand. Matt looked up, and was startled to see the tears in her eyes.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she whispered. "Why didn't you tell us how bad you were?"

He looked down, letting his thumb brush over his mum's hand in a weak attempt to comfort her. "I couldn't, mum. I couldn't do that to any of you."

She let out a short laugh that was too cold to be considered cheerful. "What on Earth could you do to us that's worse than what you did?"

Matt was at a loss as to how he could answer that.

Rose sighed heavily and took his hand into both of hers. "Matt, look at me." She waited to speak again until he obeyed her request. "It's okay to be sad. It's okay to need your family; you do know that, don't you?"

He squeezed her fingers. "Of course I do."

She looked hurt by his words. "Then what made you think you had to keep yourself away from us? What made you think we don't share your grief?"

He was quiet. Every part of his being wanted to agree with her, that maybe his mum had some understanding of what he felt now. But she didn't, she never could. This grief was his own, and his alone to bear.

Rose allowed one of her tears to drip down her cheek. "Matt, what made you think that we aren't sad, too?"

Matt stared at her, shocked and horrified to see the tears that were flowing freely now. He had never seen his mum break down over anything. Not even that night, six years ago now, when she thought David had betrayed her. Not ever.

"I miss her too, Matt, more than you know." Rose's voice was barely above a whisper, and hoarse with the emotion that she was keeping at bay. "I loved her, too."

He knew that was true. Rose was one of those rare souls who had the ability to love everyone she met, and Clara had been no exception. He knew both of his parents had viewed Clara as another daughter, taking her in without question and accepting all of her, just as they had done for him.

His mum gripped his hand even tighter. "I need you to understand something, Matt, and I'm only going to say this once." She paused to think, and pulled in a shaky breath. "You don't know nearly as much about me as you might think." She stared him down. "I know you don't believe I understand what it means to lose someone you love the way you loved Clara, but I do. I lost someone once, long time ago now… And I did exactly what you're doing now, I fell into old habits. I made bad decisions and sought after things I knew weren't good for me. I did it because I wanted to forget, I wanted to be numb. That way it wouldn't hurt so much."

Matt stared at her as she paused to collect her thoughts, and in that small moment he finally came to understand that, as much as he thought he knew, he didn't know his mum at all. She had lived a whole life without him in it, one full of more pain than he would have guessed. And yet, she had not allowed those hardships to make her into anything other than the woman she was now.

Matt knew that who he was had been created by the people and events that had gone on in his life. He was created by others, but that was not true with Rose.

She had created herself. Thrown away everything she had ever known and shaped who she wanted to be all by herself, and then achieved the goal of becoming her desired self.

Matt wished he had that kind of power.

She bit her lip. "What I'm trying to say is…I forgive you, for all of it, for bringing her here. And I hope, one day, that you'll forgive me."

Matt blinked. "For what?"

"For making you feel as though you couldn't come to us when you needed to." Her voice broke over her words, and it hurt Matt's heart to see her look defeated. And as much as he wanted to reach out and tell her that she was wrong, that her statement was completely false, he couldn't. Matt couldn't bring himself to lie to her now.

Instead, he glanced towards the stove as the kettle started to scream. "Tea's done."

Rose closed her eyes for a moment, before sniffing and wiping her tears away. She stood and took the kettle off of the stove, pouring the hot tea into the mugs and handing one to Matt.

He took it gratefully, and blew the steam off of the top.

Rose glanced up at the clock. "You're dad's going to be home soon."

Matt nodded. "I know."

They drank their tea in silence, listening to the wind howl at the eaves of the house and the waves crash against the bluffs.

Matt glanced up when he heard the soft crunch of tires, and stood, leaving his tea on the counter as he went for the front door.

"John," Rose said.

He stopped, and glanced back at her.

She gave him a weary smile. "Good luck."

Matt snorted, and went to wait on the stairs. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest he was sure it would break through his ribs. His hands trembled as he heard David's footsteps pound against the wood of the porch. Matt pursed his lips as the sound of keys jingling echoed through the wood of the door, followed by the turn of a lock.

"Rose, are you here? I—" David froze when he saw Matt. He slammed the door, and pointed towards the study. "Go."

Matt obediently stood and went to sit on the couch of David's sanctuary. He bounced his leg as David went to talk to Rose in the kitchen, and although he tried not to listen, Matt heard every word.

"What is he doing here?" David hissed.

"He's trying to make amends, Dave, just hear him out, yeah? Show that ol' softie side I love so much." Rose urged, and Matt heard her give David a kiss. "Go."

Matt waited with tense shoulders as David's steps echoed throughout the house. His back was ramrod straight, and his eyes were fixed on the open door.

David stopped in the doorway, his face looking more aged than usual. With a huff, he came to sit across from Matt, his arms crossed tightly against his chest.

"Why'd you do it?" David demanded.

Matt opened his mouth to answer, but his dad held up a hand. "No, wait; I know why you did it. What I don't understand is how you could have expected your mum, or me, or Jenny to be alright with your decision."

The way David was staring at Matt made him want to go climb under a rock. "I didn't want to bring her. She sort of, just…invited herself to come along."

David raised his eyebrows. "And you let her?"

Matt sighed heavily and rubbed his face with his hands. "I did."

His dad took a moment to stare at him, his dark eyes wide with disbelief. "You must have known how we would all react, how Rose would react."

Matt sighed heavily, his eyes fixed on the carpet. "I did."

The two of them were quiet for a moment, and Matt could feel David's eyes burning into him. He wanted more of an explanation, Matt knew, but he could offer none. He knew there was nothing he could do to adequately explain his actions in a way that David would accept, so instead, he stayed quiet.

His dad finally sighed, and let his hands run through his hair, mussing up the wild locks. "You're mum told me she forgave you."

Matt swallowed. "I believe she did, yeah."

David sat staring at him, his eyes softening as he watched Matt sink in on himself. "I guess that's done with, then, although you are going to have to deal with Jenny on your own."

Matt nodded. "I thought as much."

The two men sat staring at each other for a moment, a silent understanding settling between them.

David let out a deep breath. "How are you Matt, really?"

Matt shrugged. "I'm holding it in there, if that's what you're asking."

His dad watched him sadly as Rose joined them. She stopped hesitantly by the door until both Matt and David acknowledged her presence.

She bit her lip. "May I?"

Matt nodded, and David waved her in. "Join us."

Rose came to sit on David's lap, curling into him while keeping her eyes fixed on Matt. "Next time you need someone, you shouldn't feel as though you can't call us."

Matt gave her a weak smile. "Yeah, promise."

Matt spent the rest of his evening talking with his parents and it was far into the small hours of the morning by the time he arrived back at his flat.

He unlocked his door, and let out a tired sigh when he stepped inside.

"Well, you made it," a voice purred.

Matt clutched his heart, spinning around to find River sitting on his stairs. She was dressed in a loose fitting nightgown, her blond curls tumbling over one of her shoulders.

"River, why are you here? How did you even get in?" He demanded, sounding tired.

She held up a spare set of keys. "You left these in my flat a week ago."

"And you didn't think to give them back?" Matt was angry now, and he snatched the keys away from her quickly. He was tired of these games of hers, the ones he always found himself on the losing side of. Something needed to change, this needed to end.

River blinked. "Well, yes. That's what I'm doing."

Matt raised his eyebrows. "In my flat, at… Four in the morning, wearing your nighty?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Is there a problem with that?"

"Yes!"

River paused, surprised over his outburst. She stood and came to cup Matt's cheek with her fingers.

He closed his eyes, and as much as he didn't want to, found himself leaning into her touch, but it was a different set of fingers he was feeling. A different face he could see dancing behind his eyelids.

_"Be brave."_

Matt pushed River's hand away, and shook his head. "I can't do this."

Her eyes flashed with something that looked like hurt. "Matt—"

"No, please River. Please, just don't." His whisper was rough, and he took a step away from her. "Please, just go."

River stayed still, her hands limp at her sides. She blinked as she stared at Matt. "Why did you call me?"

Matt's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Why did you call me?" she demanded, "Only to make me leave again?"

Matt stared down at the floor. "I don't know." He glanced up, and was shocked to see real tears in her eyes. Or, really, as real as anything could be with River; sincerity had never been her strongest point.

She sniffed, and wiped her eyes furiously. "I lied, you know. I lied about Simeon, about leaving him."

Matt's head snapped up, making eye contact with her. "What?"

River swallowed nervously. "I can't Matt, he won't let me. Why did you think I was in London? They released him in the states years ago." She sighed heavily. "I knew you wouldn't forgive me if I told you, but now I see that I was a fool to even try." She brushed past him to open the door, and he grabbed her wrist.

He looked up. "River, whatever you do, just don't go back to him."

She snatched her wrist away. "You know, you were right. We could never have a future together, with a relationship based on lies." She turned away, but paused. "And my name isn't River."

Matt stared at her as she moved to close the door.

"It's Melody."


	12. Chapter 12: Sleep well, Clara Oswald

****Thank you to NoLongerAGuest and Sassywriterchick for your reviews. :) I hope you all enjoy this next chapter, and if you have a moment, I'd love to hear what you think.****

* * *

**Chapter 11: Sleep Well, Clara Oswald.**

Clara woke up screaming.

This had been a reoccurring theme in the flat for the past month or so. Clara would have terrible nightmares, images that would scare her so badly she would wake in cold sweats, thrashing and screaming until she could break free from the images behind her eyelids. She should be prepared for the dreams by now; they came every night at four in the morning on the dot. Every night, without fail; shouldn't she be able to prepare herself? Wasn't she strong enough to overcome the fear these dreams made her feel?

Or maybe her aunt was right all along; maybe she wasn't a strong person at all. Maybe that's why the dreams kept coming for her: because they knew they could hold power over her. Maybe if she was only stronger, they would go away.

Matt opened the door quickly, rushing to her bedside.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. It was only a dream, Clara." He held her wrists down firmly as she calmed down, her screams dying down into helpless whimpers.

This was also a part of the routine. The first time this had happened Matt hadn't known what to do, he had ended up holding her for an hour or so before leaving her to go back to sleep. By now, he would wait until she calmed down some, and then he would curl up beside her until she fell asleep. He never stayed, and he was always on top of the covers, but he was there. His comforting presence was always enough to get her calm enough to sleep again.

She looked up at him with tear filled eyes, and reached out to take his hand. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "You must be tired of this by now."

Clara hated how much she needed Matt. She hated that she couldn't deal with these dreams on her own, hated that she felt like she needed him to protect her. She didn't need him, or rather, she shouldn't need him. Clara knew she should be strong enough to be able to handle these nightmares on her own, and the fact that she relied on Matt so much to calm her down only made Linda's words ring even more truthfully in her ears.

She was weak, she knew, and that needed to change.

Matt shook his head. "No, hey, don't apologize. I don't mind, Clara, I really don't. If I did, I would still be in bed right now, wouldn't I?"

She smiled at that, and allowed him to pull her into his arms. She closed her eyes, and curled against his chest, fitting her head snugly beneath his chin. This was where Clara felt safest, her ear right over his heart and his arms wrapped around her small frame.

She shuddered, and he pulled her in closer, lightly brushing his fingertips along her spine. "Can you tell me about it?"

Clara shook her head, and sniffed. Telling him about it would only be counterproductive in her quest for change. "I'm sorry."

"Shh, it's alright. Just breathe, Clara, I've got you."

He held her as close as he could against his chest until her grip around him started to loosen and the tension in her muscles relaxed. Matt pulled back, kissing her forehead and holding up the covers so she could snuggle back down.

She curled into a ball on her side, pulling the edge of the blanket up against her cheek as he stretched out behind her, curling around her body while still keeping the safety of sheets between them.

She took his hand as his arm curled around her waist, holding it close to her heart as she finally closed her eyes, letting out a soft sigh. She should make him go, she really should. She knew that if she wanted to make herself stronger she was going to have to cut herself off from this comfort.

Clara sighed. Maybe tomorrow night she would be able to push him away. She would allow herself one last night of comfort, one last night to remember.

She felt his warm breath tickle her ear, and with ever beat of his heart Clara's body relaxed. Yes, tomorrow night she would be able to do this on her own, tonight she would allow herself to be held. Tonight she could afford one last moment of weakness.

She felt it when Matt murmured something into her hair, but by that time she was too far gone to decipher what it was he said.

* * *

No. This was not happening to her, not now.

"What do you mean it's cancelled?" Clara exclaimed into the phone.

"I'm very sorry, Ms. Oswald, but the account is under your aunt's name, and she has cut you off from all remaining funds—"

"No, she can't do that, I—"

"Well, I'm sorry Ms. Oswald, but she can." The kind banker's voice attempted to soothe her, but all her even tones were doing was ramping Clara up. "I'm terribly sorry, I wish there was something I could do, but there are legal matters to consider here."

Clara's eyes narrowed. "What legal matters would you be referring to?"

"Well, is it not true that you have been diagnosed with a mental illness?"

Clara froze, and bit down hard on her lip. "Yes." Her voice was tight, controlled, and she could feel her hands starting to shake.

The woman on the other end of the line sighed. "I'm sorry, but you'll need to go through the Office of Care and Protection if you want free access to your account. Otherwise, you will need to speak with your aunt about providing you the money you need."

Clara's lips thinned into a tight line. "Thank you," she hissed, and hung up the phone roughly. She tossed her mobile onto the couch, and let her head fall into her hands. This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening to her. She had escaped Linda; didn't that mean she wouldn't have to deal with her anymore?

She sat up when she heard a key turning in the lock of the front door, wiping her eyes and standing up to smooth her dress. She couldn't let him know about this, he would want to march down and take care of Linda himself, and Clara couldn't allow him to do that. She needed to learn to fight her own battles instead of letting him fight them for her; she needed to be strong, like him.

"Clara, I'm home!" Matt cried cheerfully as he dropped his keys in the bowl. "Clara?"

She stopped mid-step, halfway to her escape route—the stairs—and slowly turned to face him.

Matt dropped his bag and strode forward to envelope her in a hug. Clara hugged him back, and let out a small sob.

Matt leaned down to whisper in her ear. "What's wrong?"

Clara shook her head, wiping her eyes to get rid of the offending tears. "Nothing, I'll be fine."

"Clara, you've been crying, clearly something's wrong. I'd like to help, but I can't do anything unless you tell me what's going on." His tone was gentle, his eyes pleading as he wiped away the last of her tears with the pads of his thumbs.

She sniffed. "Well, I got a call from the bank today…"

"And?" Matt prompted.

She swallowed. "And, as it turns out, Linda still has control of my account there, and she's cut me off. All the money I have is whatever I get in my paycheck tomorrow, and I can't even exchange that for cash!" She spun around and punched the wall as hard as she could, and sent out a silent thank you when nothing in her hand broke.

Matt placed a hand over Clara's, and carefully pulled it away from the wall. She watched as he tenderly flexed her fingers out to check for broken bones, rubbing circles along her joints with his thumbs.

He intertwined their fingers then, and jerked his head towards the door. "C'mon, I have a surprise for you."

Clara raised her eyebrows, but allowed him to stuff her into her coat and drag her out into the snow. It was late December by now, and the air was so cold she could feel it biting against her nose the very second that the outer door was opened.

"Matt!" She squealed when he suddenly spun around to clamp a hand over her eyes.

"Trust me," he demanded, "because you're gonna love this."

She bit her lip, but allowed Matt to take her hand firmly and lead her down the short flight of stairs to the sidewalk. He made her shuffle forward a little more, and then let go of her.

Clara's breath caught in her throat. There, sticking out of the back of his car was the most perfect Christmas tree she had ever laid her eyes on. "Matt, it's—" She turned to look at him with wide eyes, and threw her arms around his neck.

He laughed, and locked his arms around her waist to keep from falling over. "I know! It's perfect."

They broke apart so she could rush to his car to make sure it was real. Clara tentatively reached out a hand and brushed her fingers against the needles, a grin lighting up her face when the tree felt solid beneath her hand. "It's beautiful, where did you find it?"

Matt shrugged. "I know a guy who keeps a few spares around for people who shop last minute."

Clara's eyebrows pulled up in confusion. "What do you mean, last minute?"

He blinked at her. "Do you know what today is?"

Her forehead crinkled, "Um, Friday?"

"The twenty-fourth," Matt gave her a worried look. "I was lucky he had any left at all."

She jumped, taking a step away from the lovely tree to get a better look around. "What? That can't be right, I—" She stopped, clamping her mouth shut to keep herself from revealing the present she had been saving up to buy him.

Clara felt a lump in her throat, it didn't matter what day it was anyways; she didn't have the money to get him anything regardless.

Matt smiled at her. "Well come on then, help me get this beauty inside."

She offered him a weak smile in return, and the two of them got to work. It took them nearly a half hour to figure out how to fit the tree through the door into their flat, but after a lot of swearing and sheer physical force, they managed to shove it inside.

They stopped for a moment, both of them straightening up to catch their breath.

"Finally!" Clara exclaimed.

Matt rolled his eyes to the ceiling and let out a huff. "Where are we going to put this?"

Clara groaned, and looked over her shoulder. "By the window? We could move the bookshelf to the opposite wall."

He let out a breathy laugh and kissed her forehead. "Brilliant!"

She grinned as he dragged their tree farther into their home. "I know."

The two of them spent the next hour moving furniture around to squish the tree in between the windows and the TV. It wasn't an easy task, and both of them lost their tempers more than once, but finally, just as the sun was starting to go down, they were finished.

Clara flopped onto the couch with a loud groan. "I don't know about you, but I think decorating can wait until later."

Matt laughed, and plopped her feet into his lap as he sat down beside her. "I agree."

Clara bit her lip and looked down at her hands. "Say, Matt…would you…would you mind driving me over to Linda's? I just need to, um, I need to get my…" As hard as she tried, she couldn't make herself say the word allowance out loud.

Matt reached out to squeeze her fingers. "You don't have to ask, Clara, I don't mind."

She gave him a weak smile, and straightened up, pulling out her mobile. "I should call her…"

He waved a hand, and stood to give her some privacy. "Yeah, go ahead. I'll be in the car."

She watched him go, waiting until he'd shut the door to dial Linda's number. She chewed on her thumb while the line rang, feeling a nervous tickle fluttering in her stomach. She hadn't spoken to her aunt since that last day at the hospital.

"Be brave," Clara whispered to herself.

She jumped out of her skin when the line connected with a sharp click.

"Hello." Linda's voice was cold, her tone flat.

Clara took in a deep breath, and clenched her fist to keep herself from tearing her skirt. "Hi, Linda."

"What do you want?"

Her heart started to beat faster against her chest, and she could feel her hands shaking. "I—I just got a call from my bank, they informed me that you've cut me off from my account."

"I did."

Clara struggled for a moment to find the words to continue the conversation without starting an argument. "Well, I was just wondering…" She trailed off, too nervous to finish her sentence.

Linda let out an exasperated sigh. "Why? Because you're obviously not stable enough to handle your own finances, I was only acting in your best interests."

Anger bubbled up in Clara's chest, but she held it down firmly. "Linda, I need the money that's in that account."

Her aunt laughed coldly, "For what? Doesn't Mr. Smith pay you enough?"

Clara clenched her jaw. "_Linda_! I am not his—" she cut herself off.

Linda snorted. "His _whore_? I'm sure you're not."

Clara growled. "Matt's driving me over to your house in a minute. I would be very grateful if you would give me an allowance for the next month or so until I can go through the proper channels to take back control of my account."

Linda laughed at her again. "Sure, I'll see you soon, Clara."

She ended the call angrily, pressing down on the screen with more force than was necessary.

Clara didn't know why she felt so hurt over her aunt's words. She should be used to it by now, should come to expect that Linda would take jabs at her any way she could.

She wiped away the small tear that had somehow found its way to her cheek, and quickly stood to join Matt in the car.

His smile fell when he caught sight of her expression. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she said breathily as the warm air blasting out of the heater hit her square in the face. "Let's just get this over with, Linda's expecting us."

Matt stared at her for a moment, concern etched onto his face, before putting the car in gear. "Okay."

They made the drive over to her aunt's house in complete silence. Matt had the radio playing quietly in the background, but neither of them could bring themselves to say a word. Clara didn't really know what there was to say, really. _'Hey, I'm really sorry that my aunt thinks I'm completely crackers for living with you and would probably like to murder both of us, but thanks for letting me stay anyway?' _

Clara snorted, and pulled her arms even tighter against her chest. Matt gave her a worried glance, and pulled up to the curb outside of Linda's apartment complex.

She gave him a slight smile. "I'll just be a moment, promise."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

She shook her head. "It'll be easier if it's just me there. I'll be fine, I promise." She offered him a shaky smile, and squeezed his arm. "Don't worry."

He nodded, and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, "Alright. But Clara, if you need help, I'm here. Just give me a shout, okay?"

Clara was taken back for a moment when she saw the somber look in his eyes. She could see through the tautness of his jaw that he wasn't happy with the idea of her going in alone, and that small fact made her heart flutter strangely.

She nodded again, and hurried out of the car.

Clara could feel Matt's eyes pinned on her as she climbed up the stairs to Linda's flat. She stopped in front of the weathered green door, and sucked in a sharp breath. Her heart was pounding and her hands were shaking, and Clara was furious with herself for being this afraid of a confrontation with her aunt. Linda had no power over her life anymore, Clara had defeated her once before, she could do it again. She had Matt to help her.

The thought of him, waiting in the car, ready to leap to her rescue should the need arise, is what finally gave Clara the courage to firmly knock on the door.

She held her breath as footsteps stomped towards her, every hollow thud echoing a beat of her heart.

Linda opened the door, and her expression immediately changed from one of strained politeness to disapproval. She sneered at Clara, her upper lip curling towards her nose in disdain.

"Well, it took you long enough," she grunted, and reached around the door to grab an envelope. Clara reached for it, but Linda snatched it away. "Ah, what do we say?"

Clara clenched her teeth, but managed to give Linda a bright smile. "Thank you, Linda."

Her aunt gave her a tight-lipped grin, and handed her the envelope. "That should last you through January; unless, of course, you waste it."

Clara rolled her eyes, and spun around. "Bye, Linda."

Linda laughed. "What? Can't you face me? Is little Clara too afraid without her Doctor?"

Clara froze, and slowly spun to face her aunt. "How do you know that name? How can you _possibly_ know that name?"

Her aunt gave her a triumphant smirk. "You'd be surprised what I know, love."

Clara spun around, and ran as fast as she could for Matt's car. He was waiting for her, leaning up against the hood with his arms crossed. As soon as she was within his sights, Matt shoved himself upright to meet her halfway, allowing her to nearly knock them down into the snow.

"Clara, are you alright? What did she do?" His voice had a razor edge to it that hinted at the anger he was keeping a tight lock on.

Clara shivered. "It's alright, let's just go home."

"Okay." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and kept her close to his side as they headed back for his car. Clara shivered again, and Matt rubbed her arm. "What do you want to do once we're home? I could make us something to eat?"

Clara felt her stomach churn over the idea of food, and she shook her head. "'M sorry, Doctor, but I don't think I could stomach anything right now."

He nodded, and opened her door, allowing her to climb into his car. "Right, hot cocoa it is then."

Clara rolled her eyes, and let her door fall shut as he ran around to the driver's side. It was starting to snow again, and the streetlamps were just starting to flicker on.

Matt gave her a grin. "Home, then?"

She bit her lip. "Actually, I had one more stop, if you don't mind. I left something at work, and I need to pick it up."

Matt nodded. "Alright."

The two of them sat in a comfortable silence as Matt drove them over to Akhaten Books shop.

Clara jumped out of the car as soon as they pulled up to the curb. "Be right back!" she cried as she slammed the door shut.

She scurried across the sidewalk and yanked her keys out of her coat pocket, going around to the back to unlock the door. Her supervisor, Craig Owens, had given her the job of locking up soon after he started leaving work early to spend time with his fiancée, Sophie. He tried to act like he was rushing off for an emergency, but Clara had caught them snogging in the back of the shop one too many times to believe that line.

She finally managed to open the door of the shop, and hurried inside, flipping off the alarms and running for the counter. She had a book stashed in the cabinet under the counter. She'd caught sight of it a few weeks back, and had known right away it would be the perfect gift for Matt.

Clara grinned, and quickly wrapped the book up and shoved it into a paper bag. Matt was going to be suspicious, she knew, but she liked to tease him.

She quickly ran out of the store, flipping the alarms back on and locking up the doors again.

Matt raised his eyebrows as she plopped herself back down in his car, a huge grin on her face. "What's got you all smiley?"

Clara wagged her eyebrows at him. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

He laughed, and started up the car. "Alright, keep your secrets."

Clara bit her lip to keep herself from smiling too widely, and looked away to hide her blush. "So, what do you normally do for Christmas?"

Matt shrugged. "Usually Rose and David like us all to gather together, we take turns on who's house gets used for the holidays. I think this year its Jenny's turn to play hostess." His eyes slid over to her. "But since I've got you this year I think they'd understand if we had a quiet day in."

Clara shook her head. "No, please. I've already made you miss Christmas dinner; I would hate to get in the way of your family's traditions."

"Are you sure? David, Jenny, and I can get…very excitable about Christmas. And I'm talking moving-light-up-reindeer-on-your-roof excitable."

Clara laughed, but her smile dipped when he gave her a serious look. "You're not kidding."

Matt shook his head. "No, I'm really not."

"Well…" She sighed. "I guess…"

They both jumped when her mobile started to ring. Clara's eyebrows pulled together as she hunted for the elusive phone.

"Who is it?" Matt asked.

"It's—" Clara's mouth hung open when she read the caller ID. "It's my dad."

Matt shot her a startled look. "But I thought you said he cut off all contact with you."

Clara swallowed. "That's what I thought…" She pressed down on the receiver button and pressed the mobile to her ear. "Hello?"

"Clara! Hi, this is Dave." Her father's voice sounded strained.

She sighed. "Hi, Dad, what can I do for you?" Clara hated the politeness in her tone. She knew her father would only ever contact her if he wanted something.

"Yeah, hi, listen. You're aunt and I are having a little Christmas get together tomorrow with your grams, and we'd really like it if you were here with us."

She sat, stunned, unable to form coherent words for a moment. "Uh, um, well…you see, I kind of already have plans with Matt."

Her father sighed wearily. "Please, Clara, couldn't you just join us for one night? For me? I miss you."

And whose fault is that? She wanted to shout at her dad for using such a low blow to manipulate her, but kept her mouth shut. Instead, she let out a huff. "Where?"

"Well, your aunt suggested we go to your place." Dave sounded relieved that she had agreed to easily, and Clara cursed herself for not having more of a spine.

She glanced at Matt. "Dad, I don't know if that's such a good idea."

Matt gave her a worried look. "What?"

Clara covered the speaker. "My family wants to hold a Christmas dinner at our house."

He raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"Clara, I mean, your aunt told me you're living with this guy, Matt Smith. I want to meet him, if I can. As your dad, I have a right to meet him."

Clara clenched her fists to keep from shouting at him. Dave Oswald had lost the right to call himself her dad a long time ago. Back when he'd abandoned her, when he'd decided he couldn't accept his daughter because of her mental status. When she became more work for him to take care of.

"Dad, you do need to consider Matt. He's got a family too."

"Well, no one said they couldn't join us," Dave shot back.

Clara bit her lip. "Yeah, sure, but they've already got this tradition. I don't want to get in the way of it, Dad, it would be rude."

That made her father quiet down for a moment, and Matt held out his hand for the phone as he pulled them up to the front of their apartment.

Clara handed it to him, a warning look in her eyes.

Matt held the mobile up to his ear, his expression blank. "Hi, Mr. Oswald, this is Matt Smith speaking."

Clara chewed on her thumbnail nervously as her father said something to Matt. She couldn't make out his words, but she could hear his voice clearly echoing through the small speaker. He sounded like he was trying to reason with Matt.

"Listen—" Matt was cut off by her dad. "I understand that she's your daughter, sir, but Clara—" He smacked his hand down on the steering wheel when Dave interrupted him again. "Yes, fine, four is fine. I do too, sir." He hung up the phone, and handed it to her.

Clara raised her eyebrows. "So?"

He huffed. "So, I need to call my parents, and Jenny, and ask them if they would like to meet the Oswalds."

Clara groaned, and let her head fall into the headrest of her seat. "Matt, I'm so sorry. I didn't think he would sink this low, I'm really sorry."

Matt waved a hand. "Don't worry about it."

Clara huffed, and they stared at each other for a moment. After a while, Clara couldn't hold back the smile that was ever so slowly creeping its way onto her face.

Matt gave her a curious look. "What?"

She giggled. "I just thought of an upside to this."

He raised his eyebrows and leaned in towards her. "Oh? Do tell."

Clara let out another giggle, and pressed a hand to her mouth. "You get to be my Christmas date."

Matt's eyes widened as she burst into full on laughter, and crawled out of his car.

* * *

It had taken them hours after that to decorate the flat.

Matt had called his family as soon as they were inside, and Clara snuck off to wrap his present while he argued with Jenny over the phone. She'd somehow managed to sneak it under the tree while he wasn't looking, disguising her movements by placing a few ornaments on the branches along her way.

They spent a whole hour decorating that tree, and it had taken them another hour just to locate the rest of Matt's decorations. After hauling the boxes out of his storage unit in the building's basement and somehow managing to pull them up the stairs to his apartment, they had gotten to work making their flat look festive enough for their guests.

Luckily enough, both Matt and Clara had convinced their family's to bring most of their own food, and the only thing they were left to cook themselves would be the dessert.

Clara flopped down on the couch as Matt hung up the last of the decorations. "What time is it?"

He glanced at the clock. "Just past two."

She groaned, and let one arm fling across her eyes. "You have got to be kidding me."

Matt huffed, and sprawled out on the floor, "Nope, sorry."

She let out a soft whimper, and hauled herself up into a sitting position. "Well, I think it's time I go to bed. Is there anything else we need to do?"

Matt pulled in a deep breath, and let it out with a weary sigh. "Not that I can think of."

"Good." Clara said, and pulled herself to her feet, offering him her hands. "C'mon, let me help you up."

He peeked up at her through one half-open eyelid. "You're too small; I'll just pull you down with me."

Clara rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't be such a baby." She wiggled her fingers.

Matt huffed, but took her hands and allowed her to try to pull him up. She knew he took on most of his weight to keep her from falling over, but she grinned triumphantly anyway when he got to his feet.

"See? I told you I could do it." Clara flexed her arm muscle for him, and spun around on her heel.

Matt chuckled as he followed her towards the stairs. "Hey, are you going to be alright tonight?"

"I think you mean this morning." Clara retorted, avoiding his question.

"Clara," he warned.

"Matt," she whined back. "I'll be fine, don't worry about me."

They stopped outside of her bedroom door, and Clara turned to face him. He was watching her with a worried look, and Clara felt that strange flutter in her heart again.

She offered him a weak smile. "I'll be alright, I swear."

He sighed, and gave her a warm hug. "I'm just down the hall, I'll hear you if you call out for me."

She nodded, and patted his shoulder. "I know."

* * *

Clara's eyes shot open, and she felt rather than heard herself screaming into her pillow. The nightmare had felt so real, so vivid that she had believed for a moment that she was really awake.

Clara tried to calm herself, forcing herself to block out the images of the asylum that she knew hadn't been real. Had they?

She shook her head, trying to force her thoughts in a better direction. She knew what was real, didn't she? Didn't she? It was hard to tell sometimes, the veil between reality and delusion was thinner for her, she knew that. So did that mean that the images she had seen in her dreams weren't really dreams at all, but memories?

She screamed again, and Clara cursed when she heard herself calling out for Matt. She wasn't supposed to need him. She was supposed to be strong enough to handle this on her own.

She heard her door open, and felt two hands prying her away from the pillow. "Clara, I'm here. Clara, please, you're going to suffocate yourself."

Clara clung to her pillow as Matt tried to rip it away from her face. She didn't want to face him, didn't want to face anyone ever again. She wasn't strong enough to face them.

Matt was finally able to yank the pillow out of her hands, but she managed to clamp her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to face him before he could look at her. She felt her wrists being held down by one of his hands as he used the other to cup her cheek.

"Clara? Clara can you look at me?" His frantic tone urged her to comply, but Clara refused to open her eyes. "Clara, please, I need to know you're alright."

Clara could feel herself rocking back and forth as she let out small whimpers. "I can't, Matt, I can't. Please don't make me, I can't."

"What can't you do?" he murmured, and she felt his hand on her face again. "Clara, please. I want to help you, but I can't do that if you don't talk to me."

Clara stopped rocking, and pulled in a breath that hitched in her throat. "Are they really dreams?"

Matt rubbed his thumb across her cheek to wipe away a tear. "What?"

She slowly allowed herself to open her eyes, and jumped when she found him staring at her with fear twisting his features. Was he afraid of her? Would he want her to leave now? Had this episode of hers made it so he wouldn't want to be her friend anymore? Would he send her back to her aunt?

"Shh, shh, no, Clara, I could never do something like that."

She jumped; did she say all of that out loud?

"Hey." Matt released her wrists, and placed both of his hands on her cheeks. Despite her best efforts, Clara couldn't help leaning in to his touch. "I promised to look out for you, didn't I? I'm not going back on a promise like that."

Clara sniffed, and allowed him to pull her into another hug. "I'm sorry, Matt, I—I shouldn't…"

"Shh," He kissed the top of her head. "It's alright, this is what I signed up for, isn't it? I knew what I was getting into when I met you, Clara Oswald; you're not going to scare me away now."

She let out a humorless laugh, and pulled away. "I can try."

He rolled his eyes, and stood up. "C'mon, let's get you back to sleep."

She sniffed, and allowed him to tuck her in again, smiling when he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Sleep well, Clara."

Her eyes opened wide when she heard him leaving. "Matt!"

He turned, stopping just in her doorway, "Yeah?"

"Would you…?" She patted the bed beside her, too shy to say what she was asking him to do.

Matt smiled at her, and nodded. "Sure." He came around the other side of the bed, and to her surprise, pulled up the covers so he could crawl underneath.

Clara rolled over to face him, and smiled when he settled down beside her. Matt pulled her into his arms, and held her close as she closed her eyes.

No, she shouldn't be allowing this to happen. She had only known this man for a handful of months, and here he was, sharing her bed. She should push him away right now. Clara knew that she shouldn't be allowing their friendship to get this close in such a short amount of time. Even more so, she knew she should be strong enough that she didn't need this. She should be able to manage without him rushing in to save her all of the time.

She sighed heavily. "Thank you, Matt."

She felt him smile. "Sleep well, Clara Oswald."


	13. Chapter 13: Wake up, Matt Smith

**Hey all. Big thank you to Sassywriterchick and NoLongerAGuest ****for your reviews.**

* * *

**Chapter 12: Wake up, Matt Smith.**

Matt was stuck.

His fingers hesitated over the keys of his typewriter, searching for the words he'd had a moment ago. The sentence was still unfinished, and the empty space where the words he was about to type only a moment before glared at him angrily.

Matt tore at his hair and let the frustration bubble up through him in one violent shriek. "No!" He slammed his fist down on his desk when he accepted that the words were gone. "No, no, no!"

He stood, and violently attacked the bookshelf behind him, throwing everything he could reach around the room in a flurry of papers and meaningless objects whose only purpose seemed to be a glaring constant reminder of her.

She was everywhere, she was all over him. She was the face he saw behind his eyelids, and she was the person he kept catching glimpses of in the corners of his eyes. She was the voice of reason that kept haunting his every thought, and she was the scent that had rubbed itself permanently into every blasted thing that he owned.

She was in the very walls of his home, and the very walls of his heart, and he couldn't be rid of her even if he wanted to be. And it was killing him.

_"Just breathe, in…and out." _

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" Matt roared as he ran out to the lounge and continued his path of destruction, toppling over the bookshelf there and opening his cabinets to throw his many CD's and DVD's over his shoulders. Every song was hers, every film a reminder of the nights that they shared. Every book he owned held nothing but his memories of her; each word printed on their pages held the curve of her eyes, the shape of her mouth, the very indescribable essence that was Clara. His Clara. _Her._

"Calm down," her voice murmured in his ear.

"Don't tell me what to do!" he shouted, and ran for the kitchen, going right for the cabinets. He threw every drawer and cabinet wide open, tossing anything within reach as far as he could. He wanted to hear things breaking, glasses shattering and pots clanging. Anything would be welcome, anything that could break apart the eerie silence that had coated itself over his flat ever since she had died.

Matt snarled when he was confronted with another object that was hers. It was a small glass soap dish, beautifully carved into the shape of a rose and dyed a warm pink. He reached for it roughly, irritated with the object for daring to remind him of the impact she'd had on his life.

_"Matt,"_ her voice pleaded with him.

"No!" he shouted, and pulled back his hands to violently bat at his ears as he ran for his bedroom. "No, I don't want to, I don't—"

He gasped as his foot tripped over something he had left on the stairs, and with a mighty crash, Matt came tumbling down. He rolled all the way down the small staircase, and hit the wood of his floor with an awful crack.

Matt saw stars as he felt himself slide out on the floor and slam into the front door.

Everything was blurry, and he tried to blink away the spots in his vision as he lay on the floor. He could feel something warm on the back of his head, but didn't attempt to reach up to find out what it was. He felt numb. Finally, everything was quiet. Not the same suffocating silence of before, this was a light stillness that curled around Matt's body like a cool breeze, allowing him to breathe deeply for what felt like the first time in months.

Matt smiled to himself when his fingers and toes started to tickle, and he closed his eyes. She was there, smiling down at him as he tried to find the will to move again.

_"Get up, silly."_ She laughed, and gave his lips a firm kiss. _"You still have a lot to do."_

"I'm tired, Clara," he whined.

Her laughter echoed around his ears like bells, and he smiled when her sweet scent ghosted across his nose. He couldn't really remember what it was he should be doing, anyway, so why couldn't he just lay here with her for a moment?

_"I love you,"_ she murmured.

He sighed happily, but didn't answer her. Speaking had suddenly become much harder than it was just moments before. He felt sluggish, as though gravity was pushing him down into the floor. It felt nice, in a strange way, so Matt allowed himself to sink further. He felt like he was floating ever downward, slowly sinking into a place where there was no pain, no loss, where Clara was waiting for him.

_"Matt, get up."_

His brow furrowed, why did she sound panicked?

_"Get up!"_

Matt didn't know how long he had been lying there before the sound of a doorknob rattling startled him into consciousness. Was he expecting someone to come over today? He couldn't remember, and concentrating on anything was too much work at the moment.

He moaned a little, his head hurt and his body felt stiff. He wanted to go back to Clara, where these pains didn't exist. Where was she, anyway?

"Matt!" he heard a voice shriek, and he opened his eyes a little to see who was calling for him. Or, really, he tried to open his eyes. He was finding that making his body obey his commands was getting increasingly difficult as time progressed.

"Yes? Hello? I need emergency services right away, I'm on—"

Matt huffed, uninterested, and let himself fall asleep.

* * *

_"I love you."_

Matt felt himself smile when the light smell of roses tickled his nose. He could hear the low, constant beeping of the alarm clock in the background and felt the light coming off of their lamp against his eyelids.

_"Wake up,"_ she murmured in a singsong voice, her lips ghosting against the outer shell of his ear and her breath tickling the hairs that ran down his cheek.

Matt moaned a little, and rolled towards her, his hands just missing her waist as she scurried out of his way with a girlish giggle.

He smiled again, he had missed that sound. _"Wake up, Matt Smith."_

"Clara," he muttered, feeling his eyelids flutter as he tried to muster up the energy to chase after her. "My Clara."

"Matt?"

Matt's eyes popped open wide with a jolt, and he blinked furiously when the harsh fluorescent light jabbed right through his pupils. He moaned again, and threw his arm over his eyes, wincing when the movement sent a twinge through his muscles. His mouth was dry, and his head felt like someone had shoved a lead pipe through it. He could feel the bruises all over his body, and winced as the soreness hit him with full force.

What had happened to him?

More importantly, where was he?

"Hey," a warm voice murmured, and Matt prayed that whoever it was would have the good sense to shut up. The beeping coming from the machine he was attached to was already enough to make his headache unbearable, and this voice was only one more thing that was causing him pain at the moment.

Matt dared to peek out from under his arm to see who his visitor was.

Jenny stared down at him with a relieved smile, her face crumpled with worry as she clutched a glass of water in her hands.

"Jenny?" he rasped, and tried to clear his throat.

She nodded, and came to sit down in the chair closest to his bed. "Hi. Good to see you awake."

Matt closed his eyes, and turned away from the bright light of the fluorescents. "Um, how long have I…?"

Jenny bit her lip, and sucked in a large breath, "Just a few hours…" She set the water down on the plastic table beside his bed and levelled him with a dark glare. "Matt, you're lucky I found you. When I walked in you were…" Her lips trembled, and she looked away. "What happened to you? The flat was a mess."

He sighed wearily, and reached out for her hand. She took it eagerly, wrapping her tiny fingers around his. "I fell down the stairs."

She waited for him to continue, and frowned when he didn't. "Matt, almost half of your apartment was destroyed."

"Where are Mum and Dad?"

Jenny glared at him, but gave in to his deflection with a huff. "On their way, and Jack is just down the hall with the Ponds. They're all worried about you, Matt."

Matt opened his mouth to apologize again, but was cut off by a doctor bursting into his room.

He was a very stout sort of fellow, with beady eyes and frown lines embedded so deeply into his face that he looked as though he'd never smiled a day in his life. He had an oddly shaped head, which was only made more prominent by the shiny baldness where his hair should be.

"Ah, you are awake, good." He shut the door loudly, causing Matt to wince. "My name is Doctor Strax, Mister…" He glanced down at a clipboard. "Smith! Ah, yes. You're lucky to be alive, Mr. Smith. If you're brother hadn't found you, you would have surely bled to death."

Matt blinked. "Um, actually, my sister found me."

Jenny waved a hand. "Hello, we met earlier."

Dr. Strax snorted and waved off Jenny with one hand. "It is of no importance. Anyway, from what I understand, you fell down your stairs and caused a laceration to the back of your head. You had to receive ten stitches." He glared at Matt over his clipboard. "You're lucky you didn't break anything."

Matt reached towards the wound, letting his fingers graze the gauze that was wrapped around his head tightly. He hadn't noticed that his head was bandaged before—how could he have missed that?

"Do not touch it, sir." Dr. Strax lunged forward to snatch his hand away.

Jenny held back a giggle, and Matt rolled his eyes at her.

Strax nodded to himself. "Good. Now, I have a few questions for you, Mr. Smith, just routine."

"Please call me John."

The doctor nodded, and Jenny shot him a look. He knew by the irritation in her eyes that this doctor had already done something to trigger her protective nature. He wondered, briefly, what that could be. He had a gruff manner, that was without a doubt; besides that, Matt couldn't see anything wrong with the man.

"John, could you tell me your full name?"

Matt swallowed. "John Matthew Smith."

Dr. Strax scribbled on his clipboard. "Good. What's today's date?"

"December..." He glanced at Jenny. "Well, I don't know the exact date. December of 2013."

The doctor nodded to himself. "Okay, John, just one last question. How much sleep have you been getting?"

Matt narrowed his eyes. "How is that relevant?"

"Well, and I don't mean to be indelicate, but I know you recently had a tragic death in your personal life. That, coupled with the state in which I was informed you were found in would suggest that—"

Matt held up a hand. "Stop."

Strax had the good sense to close his mouth while Matt attempted to control his breathing. He felt as though his whole chest was caving in, and the pounding of his head was reaching a new level of pain. He was teetering on the edge of an anxiety attack under the doctor's relentless glare from his beady little eyes, but was determined to get a hold of himself.

Despite his efforts, both Jenny and Strax seemed to notice the state that he was in. "Mr. Smith, there are several trained therapists that I could recommend you—"

"Is that all?" Jenny gave the doctor a hard stare. "My brother is rather tired, you understand."

Matt shot her a grateful look as Strax gave in with an annoyed grumble and simply nodded. "Yes, I think I've gotten all of the answers I require." He turned and opened the door. "You will be detained here for another twenty-four hours for observation, and then you'll be free to go. If you require my services, call one of the nurses."

Matt nodded, and winced when Strax slammed the door on his way out.

Jenny gave him a hesitant smile. "I'm sure he's on his way to inform the rest of them that you're awake."

He groaned, and glared down at the IV he found in his arm. "I don't know if I can handle lots of voices talking over each other right now."

She gave his free hand a squeeze. "I know. Do you want me to tell them to go?"

Matt swallowed, but shook his head, immediately regretting the motion as it set off another round of pains in his skull. "No, they'll just shove right past you. Let them come in, but please, please tell them to be quiet."

Jenny laughed softly at the pleading look in his eyes. "Okay, Johnny boy, will do."

"Hey." He clung to her hand. "Thanks, little sister."

He grinned at her, and she rolled her eyes. "Matt, I'm not _your little_ anything."

Matt chuckled. "Wanna bet?"

She grumbled something unintelligible, and snatched her hand away. "You're such a kid."

He gave her a wide grin. "So they keep telling me."

Jenny smiled at him on her way out, and made sure that she closed the door as softly as possible. Matt smiled slightly at that, despite all of the teasing and bickering, he couldn't have asked for a better sister than her.

Sometimes he wondered how differently his life would have turned out had he never met the Tylers, and he shuddered at the possibilities. He always made sure to thank his lucky stars that he had crossed paths with David, and that he and Rose had decided to adopt him. He couldn't have asked for better parents. For even though he technically had no blood claim to them, they both treated him as though he were their son, which, Matt supposed, he was. He couldn't always remember what life had been like before he was a part of the Tyler family.

Part of him was grateful for that.

It was only mere seconds after Jenny had left that Rose and David burst into the room.

"I don't care what that potato-head said to you, I want to see him!" Rose's expression was full of worry and irritation as she entered his room, her tone angry. "_Matt_." She sighed with relief, and threw herself into his room.

"Hi, Mum," Matt croaked.

Rose leaned down and gave him a gentle hug, pressing her lips to his un-bandaged cheek. "God, it's good to see you." She pulled away to smack his arm lightly. "What did I always use to tell you about running on stairs?"

"I know; I should have paid more attention." Matt smiled at her, and squeezed her hand before glancing over at David. "I'm glad you two could make it down."

David gave him a wide smile, and Matt could see the relief etched into his dad's features. "Well, we had to. You missed Christmas, and you're mum here would have murdered me if we didn't come down to give you your gift."

Matt's brow furrowed. "How could I have missed Christmas? What's today's date?"

Rose bit her lip. "It's the twenty-seventh."

He felt a jolt shoot through his body, and tried to sit up sharply, but both Rose and David rushed forward to shove him back down. "I thought I was only out for a few hours? How long was I unconscious?"

David sighed. "We came down when they first called us on the twenty-fourth. You were conscious, Matt, but the trauma on your head knocked the wrong cells about, and that doctor…what's his name? Strax? Gruff sort of fellow, about this tall." He held a hand up beside his chest to illustrate. "And let me tell you, that man seriously needs to work on his people skills. You should've seen how he was acting towards Jenny; I thought we were going to have to hold her back from—"

Rose nudged him. "You're rambling again, love."

He blinked, confused by her interruption, and Matt had to suppress an amused smile. "Right, yes, anyway, this man Strax told us would most likely affect your short-term memory for a while. According to him, it should all come back to you eventually."

Matt rubbed his face with his free hand and scratched at the back of his neck. "Oh."

His response sounded lame even to his ears, but Matt couldn't come up with anything else to say at the moment. He was too tired and sore, and his headache only seemed to be getting stronger by the minute. Formulating full sentences was too much work.

Rose rubbed his arm. "Sweetheart, what happened to you? We spent hours helping Jack and Amy clean up your flat the other day. It looked like you'd been attacked."

Matt looked down at his hands, "I, uh. I was just, um…"

He looked up when he felt a strong hand land on his shoulder. David's eyes told him that he understood; that no words were necessary.

Matt gave him a grateful nod, and his dad clapped him on the shoulder once. "Rose, why don't you go see what's taking the others so long? I'll stay with Matt."

A flash of hurt crossed Rose's face, but her expression quickly turned to one of understanding, and she nodded. "'Kay, be back in just a bit."

David waited until she was gone to turn back to Matt. "Do you want to tell me what happened before the interrogation team gets back in here?"

Matt chuckled humorlessly as his dad sat down in one of the stiff hospital chairs. He waited until David was settled to let out a weary breath. "I don't know, Dad, I just don't know what happened. One minute I was fine, everything was holding itself together, and then the next…" He waved his hands around. "Chaos."

His dad sat with his arms folded, his expression unreadable. "Were you thinking about her?"

Matt stiffened. "I was writing."

"So you _were_ thinking about her."

He let out a slow breath. "Guess you could say that, yeah."

"So what triggered the outburst?" The question wasn't intrusive, but it still had the power to make Matt feel uncomfortable.

He shifted nervously. "I, uh, I lost my sentence."

David raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?" Again, his question wasn't posed in a condescending way; it was more like he had an instinctive knowledge that Matt wasn't telling the whole truth.

Matt sighed under David's relentless stare. "No, that wasn't all."

"I didn't think so."

They sat quietly for a moment while Matt struggled for a way to tell David about how Clara's voice in his head had caused him to snap without sounding like a complete nutter. So far he was failing, and as the minutes ticked on, the silence grew more and more strained between them.

David let out a loud breath, letting his lips flap together as he tiredly leaned forward. "You see her everywhere, don't you? In the corner of your eye, everywhere you go, everything you touch, it's a part of her. And as much as you might want to, you can't escape it; you can't run away from the memories that are now eating away at you… Am I right?"

Matt swallowed loudly. "Something like that, yeah."

His dad nodded, and let his head hang forward for a moment. "I wish there was something I could say that would help, but I doubt anything I tell you at this point will do you much good."

Matt stayed quiet as David ran his hands through his hair, pulling at the strands so that they would fly up in every direction. He sat back, and locked eyes with Matt. "You're angry. And you should be; someone you love is dead. I know they all worry about you now because of the way you've been acting, but I would be more worried if you weren't behaving like you have been, if you weren't angry."

He leaned forward again. "You have a right to be angry, John, you have a right to be angry with her, and with them, and with anyone you want to. What you can't do is allow that anger to consume you. You have to allow yourself to work through it, otherwise you won't ever be able to move on, and someday you are going to want to move on, trust me. Someday you're going to want something or someone new in your life, and to have that, you're going to have to move on from her."

Matt looked down at the floor. "How can I? I loved her, Dad, so much. I loved her so much, how will I ever be able to just…move on from that?"

David huffed, and gave a small shrug. "In your own way, and on your own time."

"I'm not ready." His voice was barely a whisper.

David's eyes darkened a shade. "I know." He offered him an expression full of compassion. "But that's okay."

Matt opened his mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by the door banging open once again. He winced as his headache made a return in full force, sending a sharp pain straight down through the back of his skull. He felt a flare of irritation. This was a hospital; shouldn't he have painkillers?

Amy and Jack ran to his bedside the moment their eyes found him. He could see Rory walking in right behind Rose and Jenny, and groaned inwardly as he tried to muster up the energy for more conversation.

David shot him a sympathetic glance, and he returned it with a thankful smile. The two of them smiled at each other as a silent understanding passed between them, and Matt returned his attention to everyone else.

Amy gave him a hesitant smile. "Hey you."

Matt grinned back. "Hey you."

Jack let out a beaming smile. "It's good to see you fully awake, my man. I was worried for a while there that you weren't going to fully come back to us."

Matt chuckled. "Well you know me, tough as nails." He leaned around them as best he could to get a better look at Rory. "Hi there, Rory, don't be shy."

The other man smiled at him and came to stand by Amy, curling his arms around her protectively. "You had us all scared there for a while, mate. Especially this one." He flicked Amy's hair.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, I wouldn't use the term 'scared,' it was more like concern, isn't that right Jack?"

Jack gave her an incredulous look. "Whatever you say, Pond."

Matt chuckled. "So! Ponds, how's the…?" He nodded towards Amy's belly, which was already beginning to show signs of her pregnancy.

Rory shook his head. "Matt, I'm not a Pond, that's not how it works."

"Yes it is." Everyone in the room answered automatically with the same monotone in their voice.

Rory glanced at his wife's incredulous stare. "Yeah, it is."

Amy smiled, and granted him a chaste kiss before looking back over at Matt. "It's awful, I can't eat anything I want to and my body always aches, but it's wonderful." She looked back at her husband. "Because of this one."

Jenny groaned melodramatically. "Can we keep down the gooey romantics to a minimum, please? I don't want to hurl."

"Jenny Lynn, be nice," Rose chastised.

Jenny rolled her eyes. "Yes, mum."

Matt couldn't help the smile that crawled across his face. "So! Which one of you is going to spring me out of this joint, ay? Who's got a plan?"

"Oh no, you're staying right here." Rose gave him a warning glare. "You're recovering from a head injury, Matt; you need to take it easy."

He huffed, and crossed his arms childishly. "Yes, mum."

They all laughed at him.

* * *

The hospital finally released him under the condition that he live under constant supervision for the next three months, during which he would not be allowed to drive himself. Matt groaned inwardly at that, but remained compliant.

Jenny let his duffel bag fall to the floor with a small thump, her own still slung across her shoulders. "I assume your guestroom is still in the same place."

Matt nodded, preoccupied with the sight before him. "Um, yes, go on up."

Jenny's eyebrows pulled together when she caught sight of his expression. "Matt, are you alright?"

He swallowed, and forced his eyes to focus on her, "Hm? Oh, yes, yes, I'm fine."

She reached out and gave his arm a comforting squeeze. "They couldn't salvage everything."

Matt nodded, and headed towards his living room. The once full shelves now looked bare; the few objects he had not destroyed were spread around the room in a halfhearted attempt to make it look normal.

He stopped in front of the cabinet that was once full of his music. Amazingly enough, few of his CD's had broken during his rampage, and he let out a small sigh of relief when his eyes caught sight of his favorites. Somehow, they had survived his fit of madness.

Matt swallowed, and allowed the cabinet to fall closed again as he moved on to the kitchen. Someone had been kind enough to restock his supply of dishware, and Matt smiled down at the patterns of blue flowers across a white background. No doubt his mum had picked these for him, probably out of her own cabinets.

He shut the cabinet doors, and with a deep breath, finally forced himself towards his study.

The door was shut, and Matt was surprised to find it locked. He pulled out the key from around his neck, his fingers avoiding the cold ring that lay beside it. He unlocked the door quickly, and looped the chain back over his head, his hand frozen on the doorknob.

Matt took a moment to steady his heartbeat, preparing himself for the worst before opening the door slowly.

He let out a small breath of relief when he entered the room. The study looked relatively untouched, as though he had never torn it apart. Somehow every knick-knack he had aggressively thrown around the room had survived, every paper, every book looked relatively intact.

Matt's shoulders relaxed and he went over to where his landline sat on his desk. He had one missed call.

He pressed the button, and went around his desk to sit down.

Someone cleared their throat. "Um, hello Matt, this is…this is Dave Oswald, Clara's father."

Matt stiffened with surprise, and sat forward, his fingers hovering over the 'delete' button.

"I heard about your fall, and I hope you're alright…um, this may sound terribly awkward, but are you available to meet sometime within the next week or so? I have something for you—something of Clara's that I feel you should have…" He trailed off, his voice stumbling over words to get his sentences out. "Anyway, give me a call if you feel up to it, I hope your recovery is going well…bye."

Matt sat back as the machine turned itself off with a loud beep. Part of him contemplated calling him back, while the other half was furious with the man for even attempting to make contact with him. Dave Oswald, who hadn't even bothered to show up to his own daughter's funeral; Dave Oswald, who had disapproved of Clara's involvement with Matt so strongly that he hadn't shown up to their wedding to walk his daughter down the aisle; Dave Oswald, who had played with Clara's heart since she was a teenager, who had abandoned her to her abusive aunt and then proceeded to aide Linda's attempts to make his daughter's life a living hell.

Matt felt anger bubble up inside of him, but held it back with a tight clench of his jaw. Dave Oswald was one of the last people he wanted to see at the moment, but he picked up the phone anyway. He had something of Clara's.

"Hey Matt, what do you want for dinner?" Jenny shouted as she bounded down the stairs.

Matt glanced up. "Um, I don't know; whatever you're having."

She poked her head into the room. "Are you alright?"

He nodded. "Yeah, sorry, I just got a message from Clara's father."

She raised her eyebrows. "What could _Dave Oswald_ possibly want from you?"

Matt shrugged. "Apparently he wants to meet up; he has something of Clara's he wants to give me."

Jenny stepped farther into the room. "Are you going to meet with him?"

He looked up at her. "I have to."

She nodded, and spun around to leave. "Be careful."

He gave her a mock salute. "Will do, ma'am."

Jenny rolled her eyes at him, and headed out for the kitchen.

Matt swallowed, and looked back down at his phone. He allowed his finger to hover over the keys of the device for a moment, hesitating, before dialing Mr. Oswald's number.

He put the phone up to his ear, and half prayed the man wasn't home.

His heart stopped when the line connected. "Hello?"

"Yes, Mr. Oswald? This is Matt Smith, sorry I haven't been able to get back to you earlier; I just got home from the hospital and didn't see your message before now." His voice sounded terribly shaky, and Matt tried to take even breaths to calm himself down. He couldn't sound nervous to this man; he couldn't allow him to see that weakness.

"Ah yes, Matt, how are you? How's the recovery going?"

Was he imagining the concern in the other man's voice? Matt leaned back in his chair. "Good. Well, that's what they tell me at least. I still get killer headaches now and then, but I'm officially released from the hospital."

"Well good, I'm glad to hear it."

There was an awkward pause.

"So." Matt drummed his fingers against his leg. "I hear you have something for me?"

"Yes! Just a little something of Clara's that the uh…the coroner gave to me…I really think it should be with you, if you want it. Are you available to meet with me anytime soon?"

Matt bit his lip. "Yeah, well…I return to work in a week or so…would, um…" He rubbed his face as he felt his concentration slipping, and coughed. "Would Wednesday work?"

Dave was quiet for a moment. "Um, yes…yes, it would. I can meet you for lunch, say one o'clock? You can pick the restaurant."

"Actually, Dave, would it be alright if you come over to my place?" Matt felt the words burning the insides of his mouth. "My little sister is in charge of me for the next few months or so and I hate asking her to drive me places, you understand."

Dave chuckled. "Sure, sure, that's fine. Are you still in the same place?"

"Yes, same street, same flat."

"Alright, I guess I'll see you then."

Matt sucked in his cheeks. "Sure, see you." He hung up the phone, and placed it back in its cradle, letting out a loud breath.

Jenny appeared in the doorway. "So?"

Matt drummed his fingers against his desk. "He's coming here on Wednesday."

Jenny raised her eyebrows. "Here? Are you okay with him knowing where you live?"

He shrugged. "He already knows where I live, Jen, I just thought it would be easier on you if you didn't have to drive me all over town."

Jenny rolled her eyes. "It wouldn't bother me, Matt."

Matt bit his lip; he was reluctant to admit the truth, that what he really wanted was Dave Oswald in a place where he couldn't intimidate Matt, where Matt could be in control.

Jenny huffed. "Well, my boss gave me leave for the next few weeks at least, while I watch you. I won't hover, but if you need me I'll just be a shout away, yeah?"

Matt stood with an affectionate smile, and pulled Jenny into a warm embrace. "Thanks, Jen."

She hugged him back firmly. "When are you gonna wake up and realize that this is what little sisters are for, Matt?"

He laughed and kissed her cheek. "Probably never."


	14. Chapter 14: The Souffle is the Recipe

**Hey all. Big thank you to: Guest, Sassywriterchick, and NoLongerAGuest for your reviews.**

* * *

**Chapter 13: The Soufflé is the Recipe.**

Clara was surprised to wake up to the feel of a warm chest against her back.

She lay quietly, trying to control her breathing so she wouldn't wake Matt up just yet. It was still early, only 7:00 by her clock. They could afford a few more moments of peace.

She smiled a little. It was Christmas morning.

Clara jumped when her alarm clock went off, and she felt Matt stir against her. She reached out, her fist slamming down on the offending sound as he rolled away to stretch.

"Morning," he mumbled through a wide yawn.

Clara turned over, and propped herself up on one elbow. "Merry Christmas."

Matt's eyes lit up, and he beamed. "That's right!" He jumped out of bed, running around to grab on to her wrist. "Come on, it's Christmas!"

Clara laughed as he tried to haul her out of bed. "Give me just a moment, I only just woke up."

"Clara," Matt whined. "Come on, we have things to do before our folks get here!"

Her eyes darkened with realization, and she brought up a hand to her mouth with a slight gasp. "I didn't get my family anything. I bought presents for your family weeks ago, but I didn't think I would…"

Matt gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it."

Clara raised her eyebrows. "Have you met my aunt? She's going to murder me for this. I don't want to give her anymore fuel, and when she sees this she'll—"

Matt placed a hand on her mouth, and she glared at him. He removed it with a slight smile. "I said, don't worry about it. Come down, I'll explain."

She narrowed her eyes, but gave in with a tired puff of air. "Oh fine, go on down then, I'll be right behind you."

He gave her a beaming smile, and planted a sloppy kiss on her forehead before running for the door.

"Oh!" He cried, barely managing to stop himself from falling as he abruptly spun around in the doorway of her room. He stopped with his hand on the doorframe, his eyes suddenly serious. "How did you sleep?"

Clara smiled softly, and rubbed her arms. "Much better."

Matt's face crinkled into a wide smile before he dashed down the stairs.

Clara giggled to herself, and stood, reaching for the dressing gown that was hanging on the back of her door and tying it around her waist tightly.

She sucked in a deep breath, and headed out to join Matt downstairs.

He was impatiently waiting for her on the couch; Clara's present to him sitting in his lap while he held onto a silver wrapped package tightly. At his feet, Clara could see two battered stockings spilling their contents out onto the floor.

She grinned, and glanced at the tree, her eyes widening when she saw that the number of presents there had doubled. "How did this happen?"

Matt's eyes sparkled, and he held up a piece of paper. "We had a visitor."

Clara raised her eyebrows. "Did we?"

"An intruder is more like it, I would say."

Clara gave him a curious look, and glanced down at the paper in her hands.

_Clara,_

_It is my understanding that you have some last minute visitors coming today, and don't have the time to find gifts for them. I hope these will suffice._

_Merry Christmas,_

_Santa_

She looked back up at Matt with a warm smile. "Did you talk to our intruder?"

He grinned. "Not really, I caught him as he was leaving."

"I see." She bit her lip, and flitted to Matt's side, taking her place next to him on the couch. "Gimme." She held out her hand playfully.

He smirked, and handed her the present. "Merry Christmas, Clara."

She grinned. "Merry Christmas." They both held up their presents, and Clara laughed when Matt shook his a bit. "Ready?"

He nodded. "Three…two…one!"

They both tore off the wrapping paper of their gifts with a few quick flicks of their wrists.

Clara's eyes widened as she opened the lid of the small box and allowed her fingers to hover over the shiny metal of the star-shaped earrings.

"They're beautiful" she whispered, and looked up at Matt. "Thank you."

He was preoccupied with the gift she had given him, but looked up to give her a warm smile. "You're welcome."

She smiled as his attention returned to the book, his fingers tracing the gold lettering of the front. "Do you like it? It's a book of quotes, I just thought, since you read so much, that you might appreciate it."

He looked up at her with a smile, and pulled her in for a warm hug. "I love it."

She grinned. "My favorite quote is on the cover." She reached out to trace the gold lettering with her fingers. "'Waste no more time arguing what a good man should be. Be one.'"

Matt raised his eyebrows. "Marcus Aurelius."

Clara grinned, and nodded.

"I wouldn't have pegged you to be a fan of Romans."

She shrugged. "A great mind is a great mind, regardless of race or place of origin."

He smiled at her, an unreadable look in his eyes. Clara felt herself blush as her heart did that funny skip again, causing her eyes to drop away from him. "Um, so, we should probably start getting ready. They're all probably on their way by now."

Matt jerked out of his reverie. "Right, yes. You can go shower first, I'll get started on breakfast. Be quick, though, I'd like to get our session out of the way today if we can."

Clara raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Go, before I change my mind."

She grinned and jumped up for the stairs.

"Oh, and Clara!"

She paused, and half turned to face him again, "Yeah?"

Matt gave her a strange smile. "I'm glad I met you."

She grinned. "Me too."

Clara got herself ready in record time, throwing on a dark sweater over a white blouse and a festive plaid skirt.

She smiled as she put in Matt's earrings, letting them sway a little before running back downstairs. Matt was waiting for her in his study, a plate of cinnamon rolls on his desk and two cups of warm tea in hand.

She took one of the mugs with a grateful nod, and the two of them sat down. This was still a part of their routine, the cinnamon rolls and tea only being added on after she moved in.

Matt prepared his papers and flipped on his recorder. "Alright, today is December 25, 2012 and it's…almost 8:30 in the morning." He clicked his pen a couple of times while he glanced down at his notes. "So, Clara…last time we talked a little about your dad, what can you tell me about your mum?"

Clara bit her lip. "Well, that depends. What do you want to know?"

Matt shrugged. "Oh, I don't know; anything you can tell me. What was she like? What did she like to do? What kind of memories do you have of her?"

Clara's lips twitched. "Well…you should have tasted her soufflés."

He raised an eyebrow. "Soufflés?"

Clara grinned. "Yeah, I would make you one, but I never get it right."

"Why not?"

She shrugged, "Never the right recipe. It's like she used to say: the soufflé isn't the soufflé, the soufflé is the recipe. Without that, you don't have anything."

Matt snorted. "Was you're mum deep on puddings?"

Clara smiled. "She was a great woman."

He gave her a warm grin. "I'll bet."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Next question."

Clara nearly jumped out of her skin when they were interrupted by the sound of someone banging on the front door.

She glanced at Matt. "My money is on my family."

He nodded. "You win." Matt stood, and headed towards the front.

Clara followed him hesitantly, half hiding by the bottom of the stairs. She gave Matt an encouraging smile when he stopped in front of the door; glancing over his shoulder to raise his eyebrows at her.

"Ready?"

She pulled in a breath, and nodded. "Open it."

Matt unlocked the door, and opened it with a welcoming smile. "Merry Christmas!"

Linda stood unimpressed, her arms wrapped around a box of shiny presents and her lips pulled into a thin line. "They're getting food out of the car, you should go help."

Matt faltered, his smile tilting off to the side as she shoved past him and headed for Clara. "Right, I'll just…" He awkwardly snapped his fingers and headed outside.

Clara's muscles were tense, her every nerve a live wire as her aunt approached her. "It's nice to see you again, Linda."

Her aunt surprised her by opening her arms wide. "Oh c'mere you."

Clara blinked, and then stood to allow Linda to wrap her arms around her waist. Clara hesitantly hugged her back, her muscles ready to shove her aunt away at any moment.

"I've missed you," Linda said quietly as they pulled away. "A lot."

Clara was still wary, her eyes narrowing only slightly at her aunt's comment. She seemed pleasant enough, but that could change at any moment. "Me too."

They both glanced up as Clara's gran stumbled in, a large plate of cookies in hand.

"Oh, mum, let me take those." Linda rushed forward and snatched the plate away from Gran, quickly spinning around on her heel. "Kitchen?"

Clara pointed out the direction, and waited until her aunt was out of sight before turning back to give her gran a gentle hug.

"Oh dear, I've missed you."

Clara smiled as she pulled away, looping her arm over her Gran's shoulders. "How are you, Gran?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, dear, I'm always the same. What about you? Looks to me like you've made yourself a lovely friend."

Clara rolled her eyes. "Matt's a great guy, he was very kind to take me in."

Gran giggled. "And he's a pretty boy, although, that chin…"

"Gran!"

She laughed and patted Clara's cheek affectionately. "I'll behave, promise. I can't say as much for your aunt, though, or your dad."

Clara's face pinched up in a grimace. "Has Linda been talking to him?"

"Clara!" Linda's nasally voice rang. "Come help me."

"Coming, Linda." Clara rolled her eyes, glancing back as Matt and her father stumbled back into the flat and moving out of their way as they all but shoved past her and her Gran.

"Coming through!" Matt cried.

Dave gave his daughter a hesitant smile as he passed her. "Hi, Clara."

She swallowed. "Hi."

Gran gave her a slight nudge as Dave followed Matt into the kitchen. Clara gave her a withering look, but Gran only chuckled. "Go on, he missed you."

Clara snorted, and headed for the kitchen.

Linda was already bustling about like a mad chicken, throwing her hands up in the air every other moment and loudly shuffling her feet against the linoleum.

"Really, Mr. Smith, when was the last time you updated this kitchen? How do you even function without a dishwasher?" Her voice pulled up two octaves as she rattled Matt's cabinets, looking for some object she refused to ask for.

Matt shot Clara a look, and shrugged. "I had a dishwasher, once, but the two of us had a disagreement."

Clara's father raised his eyebrows. "What did it do, break all of your teacups?"

"No, it…it refused to turn on." Matt opened a cabinet over Linda's head and handed her the glass she was looking for.

"Refused to turn on?" Clara asked. "Did you try the power-switch?"

Matt shrugged. "Couldn't find it. Anyway! Oswalds, I'm Matt, I've been taking care of Clara since she moved out with her aunt. It's nice to meet you all."

Clara stood slightly mortified as he proceeded to extend one hand to her father, his beaming smile faltering slightly when his handshake was not accepted.

Gran interrupted the silence before it could get awkward. "Hello there."

Matt smiled at her, and took her hand gently. "It's lovely to meet you."

"And you," she glanced him up and down, "very nice."

"Mother!" Linda snapped.

Clara burst out laughing when Matt's face turned beat-red, his hand slowly dropping back to his side. He reached up to fiddle with his bowtie, and cleared his throat loudly. "Yes…well, my family should be here soon…ah, I'll be right back…"

Clara couldn't stop her snickering as he half ran out of the kitchen, making a beeline for the stairs.

Gran glanced at her. "Was it something I said?"

Dave rolled his eyes, and kissed her cheek. "Absolutely. Clara, could I tear you away for a moment?"

Clara bit her lip. "Dad, Linda really needs my help in here, maybe I should—"

"No, no, go ahead. I'll call you when I need you," Linda said, and then continued to grumble about the state of Matt's pots under her breath.

Gran picked up a packet of lettuce and nodded. "Yes, Clara, I think we can handle it. Go catch up with your dad."

Clara shot her a glare, but followed her father back out into the living room. Dave was looking over Matt's collection of CD's, nodding to himself whenever he found something he liked.

"Dad?"

Her father spun around on his heel, closing the glass door of the cabinet with a little more force than necessary. "Yes, hi, um…" he shifted on his feet and his eyes looked at everything but her.

Clara sat on one of the couches, every muscle in her body tensed. "Do you want to sit?"

"Yes," Dave said quickly, his tone somewhat relieved as he took the seat that was as far away from her as possible.

"You wanted to talk?" Clara prompted after a few seconds of awkward silence passed.

Dave rubbed his hands together. "Yes. I, um…I just wanted to see how you were doing. Your aunt was telling me about what happened between you two…" He glanced up at her with a spark of something that looked like regret in his eyes. "If I had known…"

Clara shook her head. "Don't. I don't want to hear it, Dad, I just don't."

"Clara, whatever you may think of me, I am still your dad, I care about you."

She let out a soft breath. "I know that, but care is very different when compared to love, Dad. Trust me."

Dave's shoulders seemed to sag under her words. "Clara, I know you have no reason to, but…after your mum died I sort of lost it, and then when you…"

"Go on, spit it out, then." Clara could feel irritation stirring in her, she knew exactly what her father wanted to say, and it infuriated her that he would even attempt it now.

"I'm sorry, Clara. I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness, but I'm sorry."

Clara stayed still as Dave stared at her with his features formed into something that was probably supposed to look like remorse.

She stood. "Let's just get through Christmas, yeah?" A knock sounded at the door, and Clara stepped around Dave. "That would be the Tylers."

"Clara…" Dave stood to grab her arm.

She managed to duck around him, and opened the door with a wide smile. "Merry Christ—oof." She was cut off by a small blur of blond running into her arms for a hug.

"Mm, I missed you," Jenny said, handing Clara a small package as they parted.

Clara gave her a breathless laugh, still unused to the amount of energy Matt's sister always exuded. "Come in, Jenny. That's my father by the couch."

Jenny glanced over at Dave and held out her hand with a polite smile. "Hi, name's Jenny."

"Dave Oswald." Clara's father took Jenny's hand and glanced up at his daughter. "I don't think Clara ever mentioned that Matt had a sister."

"Well, I'm hurt." Jenny widened her eyes and melodramatically placed one hand over her heart. "Clara, did I not make a big enough impression?"

Clara laughed nervously, and felt a wave of relief as Matt came running back down the stairs.

"Jen!" he cried.

"Johnny!" Jenny ran to yank her brother into a fierce hug, squealing happily as he picked her up and spun her around.

Clara felt a ray of warmth spread across her chest as she watched the two of them. Matt's face had shifted, his features becoming boyish as he set Jenny down. Clara loved the fact that Jenny had the ability to make Matt revert back to a younger version of himself, one that was still a child at heart.

"Clara Oswald, it's good to see you again!"

Clara's face lit up as David's voice came bouncing up the stairwell. "You too, David."

Matt's dad dropped a bag full of packages by the door and pulled her into an affectionate hug, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "I hope Matt's been treating you alright, sweetheart."

Clara grinned. "Of course he has."

Rose came up behind him, a tray of roasted potatoes in her hands and a soft smile on her face. "Hi, Clara."

Clara smiled back. "Hi, Rose, do you need help with that?"

Rose waved her off. "Oh no, just point me in the direction of the kitchen."

She glanced back at where her family had now gathered in the doorway of the kitchen, and bit her lip. "That way."

David and Jenny came to stand with Rose as she smiled at Clara's family. "Hi, my name's Rose Tyler. This is my husband, David, and our daughter, Jenny."

Linda raised her eyebrows. "I thought it was Smith."

"No, we're Matt's adopted parents." David explained, holding out a hand to Clara's father. "It's lovely to meet you."

Dave took his hand firmly. "You as well, I'm Dave, Clara's father."

"A fellow Dave! I suppose we'll have to start calling ourselves Dave one and two." David let out a hearty laugh.

Clara's father gave him a small, nervous smile. "I suppose so."

Clara fell back to Matt's side and the two of them watched their family's greet each other with wary interest.

Clara crossed her arms. "Well, my gran seems to like your family at least." She nodded to where her grandmother was sharing a joke with Jenny and Rose.

Matt bit his lip. "That's something, I guess…"

They glanced at each other, and Clara let out a tired breath as she leaned against him. "It's going to be a long day…"

Dinner passed with a thick cloud of tension hanging around the room. Clara could feel it closing up her throat as she tried to swallow down the last of her pudding, her eyes watching her father and Linda closely. Rose and David had tried hard to hold conversations with them, doing their very best to be as pleasant as ever, but both Dave and Linda refused to even pretend to like the couple.

Linda sat with the same cold expression she had worn all day as they finally stood to clear the table. "Let me take that, Clara."

"No, Linda, it's fine. You cooked, I can clean."

Linda huffed, and snatched the plate out of her hands. "Oh, don't be difficult."

Clara stared at her as she turned and marched over to the sink with quick steps. She saw Jenny watching her with a slightly surprised expression on her face. Clara wanted to blush under her stare, and hurried out of the room.

She sat on the couch, and didn't look up as Jenny sat beside her.

"Does she always speak to you that way?"

Clara sighed. "She didn't use to, not until…" she waved her hands around helplessly.

Jenny wrapped her arm around Clara's shoulders. "I'm sorry."

Clara shook her head. "Don't be."

Jenny bit her lip. "I don't really have any kind of experience with this. I mean, my mum was an alcoholic, but that's not quite the same, I know. I don't know what I can tell you that will make you feel better; except that you have me, and David, and Rose. They already think of you as a daughter, you know that right? As for me, anyone who Matt likes as much as he likes you is a friend to me."

Clara smiled. "Thanks, Jenny."

She gave Clara's shoulder a shake. "Now, what do you say we get these presents sorted?"

Clara allowed Jenny to pull her off of the couch, halfheartedly going through the familiar motions of sorting gifts into small piles around the room.

She smiled when she heard David and Matt laughing loudly with her dad from the study.

Clara was sometimes jealous of the relationship Matt had with his dad when compared to her own. And, although she would never say it out loud, the fact that David wasn't even Matt's real father only made it sting all the worse. Shouldn't she have that kind of a relationship with her dad? The kind where it was easy to laugh and to talk about anything with him, the kind where she didn't have to wonder if he was going to run off at any given second—the kind where she didn't wonder if he was afraid of her.

"I'll get the boys," Jenny said, rolling her eyes as she stood up.

Clara fiddled with a dark red ribbon that was wrapped around a small blue package, trying to gather herself again. She shouldn't let Linda's words bother her, she should be used to them by now, and yet she was still obsessing—still feeling the sting of the blow.

"Present time?" Rose's voice made her look up.

Clara nodded. "I think so."

"I'll get the other two," Rose offered, and Clara felt her entire body relax as she disappeared back into the kitchen.

"Present time, present time!" Matt clapped his hands like a toddler and rushed over to his pile, Jenny and David right on his heels. The three of them all had an identical expression—eyes bright, cheeks flushed, and hair in every direction it could possibly go.

"Come on Rose, hurry up!" David whined.

"We're coming!" Rose shouted back, her tone surprisingly patient. Clara supposed—based on Matt's description of his dad and Jenny at Christmas—that she was used to this by now.

It took a good five minutes for everyone to settle down and arrange themselves around the living room, and once they did it took another few seconds of awkward stares to see who was going to go first.

"Well." David picked up a bag off the top of his pile. "Shall we get started?"

The rest of the evening seemed to go off without a hitch, and soon enough, Clara found herself relaxing her muscles and fully joining in the conversation. Dave and Linda evidently decided it would be better to make an attempt at friendliness, and spent the rest of the night chatting with Rose and David. Clara's Gran adored both Matt and Jenny, and wasn't at all shy to tell them so. She had embarrassed Matt enough by now that Jenny and Clara had a count going: it had been eleven times so far, and the night was still young.

It wasn't until later in the evening, when everyone was leaving, that things went south again.

The Tylers had left for their car not ten minutes ago, and Clara's family were in search of their coats, when Linda decided to speak up.

"So, Clara, I've been talking to your father—"

"Linda," Gran snapped abruptly. "Leave it."

Her aunt glared, and glanced at Dave. "Do you want to…?"

Dave shifted uncomfortably, and took Clara's hand. "Clara, how would you feel about moving back in with me?"

Clara heard Matt drop the book he was holding, and opened her mouth in search of words. "I…"

"I want to make it all up to you, Clara, not being there for you…I want to fix that. And besides, your aunt is right, you should be with your family." He glanced up at Matt. "You're a nice enough man, Matt, but my daughter needs something more…stable."

Clara snorted and snatched her hand away. "Matt's taken good care of me."

Dave opened his mouth, but Linda beat him to the punch. "Sure he has, Clara, but what happens when he tires of you? What happens when you don't entertain him anymore? What happens when he decides that you're too much to deal with? What's going to happen when you have an episode and you don't have anyone to help you?"

Clara felt tears well up in her eyes. "Is this the only reason you came?" She saw Matt slide away to the far end of the room. She wasn't hurt by his need to escape; she knew watching this was making him uncomfortable. Matt didn't like familial conflict, she knew that, and he had good reason not to.

Her Gran let out a loud huff. "Well now you've gone and done it." She swatted Linda and came over to give Clara a big hug. "Clara, love, you do whatever you think is best. If nothing else, you can count on me to support you. I don't think you have anything to worry about." She kissed Clara's cheek and turned to glare at her children. "Let's go."

Linda let out an irritated huff, and gave Clara a light pat on the cheek as she passed her. "Just think about it, yeah?"

Clara only stared at her as she left.

Dave shuffled passed Clara, only turning to face her once he was on the other side of the doorway. "For what it's worth…I love you, Clara; I only want what's best for you."

Clara didn't respond as he shut the door behind him.

Slowly, she spun around until her eyes settled on Matt. He was watching her closely, his whole posture advertising his discomfort to her.

Clara closed her eyes, and pulled in a deep breath through her nose.

When she opened her eyes, Matt was there, his hands on her shoulders and his face worried.

"Are you okay?" he murmured.

Clara ran her tongue along the tops of her teeth, and forced herself to meet his eyes. "I'm always okay."

Matt swallowed, and glanced at the mess of shredded paper that was still strewn all around the floor. "We should probably clean this up."

She moaned. "Can't it wait until tomorrow? I'm exhausted."

Matt's lips twitched into a slight smile, and he nodded. "Yeah, sure."

Clara kissed his cheek, and spun around to climb the stairs. "I'm going to bed, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Clara."

She stopped, and turned back to look at him. "Yeah?"

His eyes searched her face. "Do you feel safe?"

She cocked her head, and came back down the stairs to stand in front of him again. "What?"

"Do you feel safe, with me?" His face was tense, as if he dreaded her answer.

"Of course," she said simply, not understanding his question.

Matt bit his lip, and flapped his hands around. "Okay, give me a number out of ten: ten being whoo-hoo, one being… argh!"

Clara raised her eyebrows. "You do know that you're being weird, right? More than usual."

"I need to know." He pursed his lips, ignoring her statement. "I need to know you're not afraid."

"Why would I be afraid?"

"Because she's right—"

"No, she isn't," Clara said through tight lips, her hands curling into tiny fists at her sides.

"Yes, she is…" He trailed off. "Clara, you ran away to live with a strange man all alone, in this box of an apartment building. Anything could happen to you."

Clara relaxed as she began to understand the root of his anxiety. A light smile pulled at the corners of her lips, and she squeezed his hand before heading back for the stairs. "That's what I'm counting on."

She paused on the way up, and turned back one more time. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah." He waved a hand. "Merry Christmas, Clara."


	15. Chapter 15: Gift

****A millions thanks go out to: Linesy, NoLongerAGuest, and Sassywriterchick for your lovely reviews on the last chapter.****

* * *

**Chapter 14: Gift.**

Matt knew that it was absolutely ridiculous to be so nervous about meeting with Clara's father. It wasn't as though it was the first time, and it wasn't as though he needed to make an impression anymore. Oh no, now he could openly hate the man if he wanted to.

He shook his head. No, that was a terrible thought to have. The man was Clara's father, and as much as Dave Oswald may have hurt his daughter during her life, it was Matt's responsibility to honor her memory by respecting this man.

At least, that's what he was telling himself.

Jenny glanced at him from her spot on the couch. "You're going to wear a path into the carpet."

Matt paused, only just realizing that he was pacing in front of the front door, his hands curled up into his hair or fiddling with his bowtie.

"Sorry," he said flatly. "Can't help it."

Jenny rolled her eyes and went back to her magazine. "Don't let him scare you, John."

Matt's lips curled with disgust around her words. "He does _not_ scare me."

His sister crossed her legs and pulled the magazine up higher over her face. "Uh-huh."

"He doesn't," Matt grumbled, and glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time that morning. "Five minutes."

Jenny snorted. "Oh,_ please_ don't start a countdown."

He shot her an annoyed glare and ran a hand through his hair again. "What could he possibly have for me that he can't send in the post?"

She shrugged. "You'll see when he gets here."

Matt growled under his breath. "Yeah, well, I wish he would hurry up." He paced in front of the door a few more times before nervously shuffling into the lounge.

"Calm down, Matt."

"I am calm," he grumbled, rubbing his hands together and fiddling with his bowtie again.

Jenny glanced up, and rolled her eyes. "Stop touching the bowtie, it looks fine."

"It looks ridiculous. Who wears bowties? It makes me look like a child, maybe I should—"

Jenny threw down her magazine and jumped out of her seat. "Whoa, whoa, calm down there, Johnny boy. Since when do you think bowties look ridiculous?" She grabbed his shoulders and gave him a little shake. "Don't let him scare you."

Matt straightened up. "You're right, you're absolutely right." He spun around to face a mirror, smiling to himself as he straightened his signature garment. "Bowties _are_ cool."

Jenny smirked. "Now there's the John I know."

They both looked up as the doorbell buzzed loudly. Matt looked at Jenny, and she raised her eyebrows at him. "What are you waiting for? Let him in."

Matt headed over to the door and paused to take a few deep breaths. "Okay," he muttered. "Okay, you can do this."

He waited until the butterflies were settled in his stomach to straighten his back and open to door.

Dave Oswald greeted him with a stiff posture and tightness around his eyes and mouth. It took a moment for either of them to move, and as the seconds ticked by, neither of them would relinquish the hard stare that passed between them. It was a show of power, Matt knew, and to back down now would make him the lesser man. To back down now would be allowing himself to fall into a submissive position, and he would never give Dave that kind of satisfaction.

"Matt." Mr. Oswald broke the stare first by offering his hand. "It's good to see you again."

"You too, sir." Matt took his hand willingly, and opened the door wider. "Won't you come in?"

Dave nodded and shuffled passed him. "Yes, thank you."

Matt shut the door and waved a hand towards the kitchen. "Do you want anything?"

Mr. Oswald sat down on Matt's couch and shook his head. "No, thank you, I'm not staying long."

Matt felt some of the tension in his shoulders relax under Dave's unintentional reassurance, and walked over to sit down himself.

Matt rubbed his hands along the tops of his trousers. "So, I hear you have something for me."

"Yes." Dave's words came out slowly, each syllable extended as though he wasn't sure he should be saying anything. "It's just a little something, but I think…well, I think Clara would have wanted you to have it instead of me."

Matt watched him carefully as he reached into his jacket pocket.

Dave refused to look at him as he pulled out a familiar chain. "Her mother gave her this…I was going to give it to you sooner, I just…I wanted to keep it for a while first."

Matt felt his breath getting caught in his throat, and attempted to clear it so he could speak. The object Dave was holding out for him was Clara's leaf charm necklace.

_"She said that as long as I had it, I would always be able to find my way home."_

"Take it," Dave murmured.

Matt's fingers hesitantly brushed against the slender golden chain. The metal made soft clinking sounds as it settled on the palm of his hand and Matt couldn't help the tender smile that crept across his face.

That smile disappeared quickly, though, with the realization of what he was holding, and his brow furrowed with puzzlement. Why would Dave want to give him one of the only things he had left of his daughter?

He glanced up at Mr. Oswald. "Don't you want to keep it?"

Dave cleared his throat. "Like I said—you should have it. She was your wife, Matt."

"She was your daughter, Dave," Matt countered.

Clara's father shifted uncomfortably, his shoulders stiffening against Matt's words. "Yes, well…I think, of the two of us, Clara would want you to have it more than me."

Matt looked down at the necklace. Everything inside of him was telling him to keep it—a large part of Matt was screaming at him to accept Mr. Oswald's gift and shove the man out of his house for good. It would be so easy—would really only take a few short words and one last handshake. And yet there was another part—albeit a small piece of him—that was telling the rest of him to give the necklace back to Dave. Matt reminded himself yet again that it was one of the few objects he had left to remember both his daughter and his wife by. And no matter how much he hated this man, he couldn't take this away from him.

He pressed the necklace back into Mr. Oswald's hand. "Keep it."

Dave looked up at him with surprise. "But—"

"Keep it." Matt's tone was firm as he gently pushed Mr. Oswald's hand away. "I have plenty to remember her by, and I think you need this more than I do."

Mr. Oswald appeared to be speechless as he sat staring at Matt. But after a moment of silence, he seemed to come back to himself. "Matt, I don't think you understand," he held out the necklace again. "I don't _want_ to keep it."

Matt's eyebrows pulled down in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

Dave shifted in his chair. "You remember Sheryl, yeah?"

Matt nodded mutely.

"Well…" His eyes shifted from Matt, to the floor, and back again. "I loved Ellie, please don't misunderstand me. I will always love her, but…"

"You're marrying Sheryl." Matt finished Dave's sentence slowly, carefully feeling every syllable as it left his mouth.

"Yes." Dave nodded. "And both of us feel as though, in the spirit of moving on, I need to let go of everything that ties me to the past."

The two men sat staring at each other for a few moments as the tension in the room seemed to slowly rise.

"Bullshit."

Dave jerked with surprise over Matt's response, and his eyes immediately narrowed. "Excuse me?"

Matt sucked in his cheeks and braced his hands against his knees. There was no going back now. That being said, there was absolutely no way he was going to have the guts to repeat himself.

_Don't let him scare you._

Matt squared his jaw as Jenny's words echoed in his ears. "You heard me."

"Yes, I did, but I don't understand." Dave leaned forward, his elbows resting against his knees as he painted his face with a look of innocent confusion.

"You don't understand?"

"No."

Matt felt his heart constrict with a familiar anger. "Well then, allow me to explain." He stood and swiftly marched over to a bookshelf to grab a photo of Clara. "Do you see this girl? This beautiful, wonderful person in this picture? That's your daughter, Mr. Oswald. Not just any random stranger, not just any other girl you'd meet on the street—your _daughter_, so please forgive me if I don't understand how _anyone_ could calmly sit there before me and say they would want to forget someone so full of life, someone who was so very special—"

"I'm aware of how she was, Matt, but you don't understand—"

Matt felt his knees involuntarily relax as he bent down to better look Mr. Oswald in the eyes. "Oh really? You're sure of that are you? Because it seems to me that you didn't want anything to do with her in life until it was convenient for you, and now that it's inconvenient to hold onto her memory in death, you drop her again the first chance you get!"

Clara's father opened his mouth to respond, but instead clenched his fists and turned his head to stare out into empty space.

Matt let out a hollow laugh as he collapsed back onto the couch, and then was driven forward again by the manic energy that was now pulsating through his fingertips. "And now you come to me, hoping that I will fix all of this for you so you don't have to think about it. So you can move on with your new little wife and her lovely little family. So tell me again, Dave, what is it that I don't understand?"

Mr. Oswald sat staring at him; his mouth halfway open and his whole body slumped—as though he were being weighed down by Matt's words.

Matt simply raised his eyebrows and opened his hands. "Well?"

Dave Oswald simply stood, carefully placed the necklace beside Clara's picture on the shelf, and headed for the front door.

Matt sat staring with disbelief. "What, you can't even face me?" He stood angrily. "Clara deserved better than you—you're a coward, Dave Oswald, nothing but a coward."

Mr. Oswald paused with his hand on the doorknob and turned his body halfway around to look back at Matt with an exhausted look in his eyes. "You think you know me, Matt Smith, but you don't." He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. "Don't pretend that you know anything."

Matt felt a shiver run up his spine as the door closed with a soft click.

* * *

For the rest of that evening, Matt sat in his study in complete silence. His fingers were ready over the keys of his typewriter, his cassette player was turned on and a tape was already set inside, but he couldn't bring himself to move.

Jenny had come down the stairs to check on Matt long after Clara's father had left. She had found him this way—staring into space as if it held all of the answers he was searching for.

"Matt?" she nearly whispered as she crept into the room. "Matt, are you alright?"

He glanced up, her voice bringing him out of the trancelike state he had been in. "Yes I'm fine Jenny, don't worry about me."

His sister's eyes darted nervously to the space he had just been staring at. "What, did you think the air was going to give you inspiration?"

Matt cracked a dreary smile. "I was hoping so, yeah." He squinted, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "I was, um…trying to find my place."

Jenny came around beside him to touch the back of his neck. "Is your head bothering you again?"

"No, no, I just- um…" Matt pulled in a sharp breath and willed himself back into composure. He opened his eyes and flexed his fingers. "I'm just tired."

"Maybe you should go to bed." Jenny suggested gently.

He shook his head. "No, I want to find this again, and it's only half past six, Jen. I'll go to bed in a little while, I promise."

"Matt—"

"I promise." He took her hand into both of his as he looked up at her with what he hoped was a reassuring expression. "I'll be okay; I just have to do this."

Jenny gave him a doubtful look, but patted his cheek affectionately. "Okay, just don't be too long, yeah? And eat something, for Christ's sake. You look like a skeleton."

Matt rolled his eyes. "I do not."

She poked his cheek. "Do too." She spun around to leave, and he let her hand slip out of his as he watched her go.

She stopped at the doorway to give him one last look, her brow pinched together with worry, before she turned and headed towards the kitchen. "I'm making us dinner, I expect you to eat some."

He sighed heavily and pressed play on the stereo, leaning back as the familiar crackle of the speakers broke over the lingering tension in his shoulders.

Matt sat back, and closed his eyes to listen.

_"Was you're mum deep on puddings?" _Matt smiled as his voice echoed through the stereo.

_"She was a great woman."_

He paused the tape and readied his fingers over the typewriter, biting the inside of his cheek as he tried to think of how he wanted to pick up this chapter. He had the spark, the idea sitting there in his head, ready for use. It was the words that were being difficult.

His eyes lit up as they finally came to him, and the room around him seemed to come alive as the sound of clacking keys echoed off the walls.

_I curled into his waiting arm as the clock struck midnight, and smiled as the whole city seemed to light up around us. The street came alive with the sounds of people cheering, their glasses raised in the air to toast the coming of the New Year._

_I looked up when I heard him humming. "Don't tell me you're—"_

Matt cursed when the phone rang.

"Can you get that, Matt?" Jenny cried.

"What?" he demanded gruffly as he picked up the line.

"Oi, don't get smart with me, Smith." Amy's rough accent sounded even more irritated than usual. "You know what they say about pregnant women, don't you?"

Matt felt that rare, fond smile cross his face as his body relaxed. "Hello to you too, Pond, what can I do for you?"

She went quiet for a moment. "Well…Rory and I will be leaving by January, and we were just wondering if you'd, maybe, like to come over for dinner?" Her voice sounded hesitant, as if she's prepared for him to turn her down.

Matt sat up straighter. "Tonight?"

"Yeah, why not? Jack's already coming over; we'll just put out an extra plate for you, too." Matt could almost hear the smile in her voice as she added, "Like we always do."

Matt stood and half ran for the kitchen to stop Jenny cooking. "Do you mind if Jenny tags along? She has to drive me."

"I'd love to see her again, just get yourselves over here quick, yeah? Or we'll just have to start without you…like we always do."

Matt could imagine her smirk, and let out his best indignant expression. "Oi! Just, oh, just shut up, Pond."

Amy laughed. "See you soon, Raggedy Man."

Matt rolled his eyes and hung up the phone. "Jenny, get your coat!"

His sister jumped as he grabbed her arm and half dragged her out of the kitchen. "Why, where are we going?"

"To the Ponds' house!" he cried out enthusiastically as he shoved a coat towards her. "They invited us over for dinner."

Jenny stopped and stared at him as he eagerly yanked his own coat on. "Matt."

"Yes?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Are you alright?"

He grinned. "Me? Never better. C'mon, get your keys. We don't have all night."

Jenny looked concerned as Matt all but shoved them out of the door, but she kept quiet. Matt kept himself jittery on his excited energy—bouncing his legs and tapping his fingers as they made the short drive over to the Ponds' house. He knew this manic episode was going to make them all worry about him, but he couldn't really make himself calm down.

Matt knew that if he were to stop moving at this moment, even for just a second, he would crash. He had to keep moving, had to keep running in order to keep himself sane—in order to keep himself together, really. This dinner with Amy and Rory would provide the perfect outlet for that.

Jenny hung back as they walked up towards the Ponds' front door. "Are you sure you want me here? Because I'm perfectly alright with going home."

"Nonsense!" Matt shouted. "Amy will love seeing you again, she told me so, and I can't just treat you like a chauffeur now, can I?" He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave them a tight squeeze.

Jenny bit her lip. "Whatever you say, Matt."

Matt grinned, and knocked on the front door loudly. "The Tylers have arrived!"

"Rory!" Amy's voice, though muffled, could clearly be heard shouting, "Answer the door!"

Matt and Jenny both chuckled as they heard footsteps quickly approaching the door.

Rory's face was a mixture of the constant stress he always carried and welcome. "Hey! You made it. Come on in, Jack's here and dinner is nearly on the table." He opened the door wider and all but pulled Matt and Jenny inside.

As soon as he was inside, Matt's nose was assaulted with a myriad of warm smells. The most predominant, however, was the scent of burnt pastry.

He shot Rory a worried look. "You didn't let her cook, did you?"

Rory sighed heavily and allowed his face to fall into his hands for a moment. "If you had ever lived with a pregnant woman, you would understand." He looked up towards the ceiling. "There is no argument you can win."

Matt laughed and shook his friend's shoulder encouragingly. "It'll get better, I'm sure."

Rory huffed, "Oh, god I hope so."

Jenny smiled brightly as the conversation between the two friends died down. "It's good to see you, Rory."

"You too, Jen." Rory happily accepted the hug Jenny offered, and waited until they had both hung up their coats before leading them farther into the house. "Amy, they're here!"

"Well, hurry up and get in here, then!" the fiery woman barked.

Rory looked over his shoulder at Matt and let out a loud breath. "I swear, mate, these hormones of hers are going to kill me."

Matt laughed and clapped his shoulder as they made their way towards the dining room. "I hear yah, man, I do."

"Pardon the mess, by the way." He gestured to stacks of cardboard boxes with various labels that were strewn all around the house. "We just got serious about packing a day or so ago, so the house isn't quite as clean as it could be."

Matt felt a giant lump form in his throat, but waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, don't worry about it."

"Hey you two!" Jack cried as they entered the room. "Long time no see, ay?"

"Yeah," Matt laughed as he accepted Jack's welcoming hug, "too long, in my opinion."

Jack grinned, and turned to take Jenny's hand. "Always a pleasure, Madame."

Jenny rolled her eyes as he kissed her hand softly. "Come off it, Jack."

Matt gave him a murderous glare. "No."

Jack raised his hands. "Alright, alright, jeez. Can't a guy just say hello around you people?"

Amy laughed as she came to put one arm around him. "As long as it's anyone else but you, Jack." She rubbed his head affectionately and spun around to head towards the table. "Now, I'm starved, let's eat!"

"Just to be clear: you didn't attempt to cook any of the main course, did you?" Matt teased as he settled into his seat.

Amy scowled at him. "Watch yourself there, Smith."

He chuckled. "Or what, Pond?"

She rolled her eyes and smiled at Jenny as the rest of them dug in to their food. "It's so good to see you again."

Jenny swallowed her bite of chicken quickly and nodded. "It's good to see you as well; how is everything?"

Amy grinned. "Good, yeah. We're just starting to pack everything up, as I'm sure you saw in the hall."

Matt pulled in a breath. "So, when do you officially leave?"

Amy shared a look with Rory, and he took her hand. "Well, we sold off the house, so officially we have to be out of here on New Year's."

Jack coughed, spewing his sip of wine all over the table. "You can't leave on New Year's! That is simply not happening. You can stay at my place if you have to."

Rory glanced at his wife. "Well, technically our flight doesn't leave until New Year's Day, so we could spend the night with all of you. That is, if the Missus here feels up to it."

"Don't call me 'the Missus,' it makes us sound like an old couple," Amy grumbled.

"Right," Rory muttered back.

"Well, Matt and I already had plans to go visit Rose and David for the holiday, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind a few extra guests tagging along if we asked them," Jenny offered.

"Their house is the biggest," Matt added.

Amy looked over at Rory, and Rory glanced at Jack. "I think we'd be in for that," Jack said.

Matt whole face lit up as he beamed at his trio of friends. "Lovely!"

The rest of the meal passed in a rowdy chorus of laughter and embarrassing stories. Matt was happy to see Jenny visibly relax as the evening went on, her smiles appearing less and less forced as she joined in the conversation going on around her. He knew she had always been a little apprehensive about being around Matt's friends; she never quite felt as though she belonged with them. Why she felt that way, Matt couldn't understand, but he was delighted to see that wall she had put up earlier this evening come slowly tumbling down.

"Oh, Amy, let me help you with the dishes," Jenny offered as all five of them stood the clear the table.

Amy grinned and happily linked arms with her. "Certainly, I'd love a little girl-talk while our boys digest a little."

"Oi! We're not '_your boys_.'" Rory used his fingers to quote her, his tone playfully sarcastic.

Matt snorted. "Yes we are, Rory."

Rory glanced at him, and then over to where both women were now watching him with raised eyebrows. "Yeah…"

Amy grinned, and hopped over to kiss her husband's cheek. "Good boy, remember to play nice."

"Yes, dear," Rory grumbled as she disappeared into the kitchen with Jenny in tow. "C'mon, we better get out of here before they change their minds." He headed for the back patio door.

"Let me just grab my coat." Matt called, and spun around to head back for the front door.

He yanked the coat on before quickly walking back for the sliding door to rejoin Jack and Rory.

"I'm really worried about him, Amy."

Matt slowed his walk, stopping just outside of the kitchen door to listen.

He heard one of them sigh. "We all are, Jenny."

"Yeah, I know, but I didn't notice how bad he was until I started staying with him. He's always either jittery or lethargic, I have to fight to get him to eat anything substantial, and God knows how much he sleeps—"

"I know." Amy's voice was low, almost as though she were afraid of being overheard. "But he's better than he was. You should have seen him that first night…I've never seen someone so—" She cut herself off.

Matt felt a heavy weight settle over his heart. On some level he had always known how much it affected those he loved to see him falling apart as he had; it had been pointed out to him numerous times just how much his loved ones were sharing this grief with him, but to hear that worry said out loud by those same people when he wasn't in the room was what hurt him all the more. Because he knew there was nothing he could do—nothing besides lie through his teeth, that is, and he wasn't willing to do that. Matt wasn't sure if he could.

He swallowed down the hollow feeling in his chest, and headed out onto the back patio.

* * *

The sound of Jenny's keys crashing down into the bowl by the door made Matt's shoulders tense up. He refused to look at her; hadn't offered her a single word or a glance since they'd left the Ponds' house.

She pulled in a heavy breath. "Well, it's late. We should probably both go to bed."

"No," Matt croaked. "I mean—you go on. I'm going to stay up and write awhile."

Jenny stared at him with exasperation on her face. "Matt, can't you just give it a rest? Just for one night, that's all I'm asking. Let me believe you got a good night's sleep for just one night, yeah?"

Matt shook his head. "I have to, Jen, I need to."

"No, you don't!" She gasped, one hand reaching up to pull at her hair. "I know you promised her that you would finish it, and I get that Matt, I really do." She brought her hands together tightly. "But this is becoming an obsession. Can't you see that?"

Matt swallowed and involuntarily backed away from Jenny. "It's not an obsession, Jen, it just gives me…"

"What?" She demanded when he wouldn't continue, "What does it give you, Matt? Because from where I'm standing, all it seems to do is wear down your health. You _need_ to take care of yourself. If not for me, and if not for your family or friends, then for Clara."

Matt sucked in his cheeks and brought a hand up to rub at his jaw. "Jen, I know you don't understand this, but –"

"No. Don't even try to give me a line, mister; don't even try it on me," Jenny's eyes flashed dangerously. "Just listen, okay? Listen."

Matt waited while she took a few calming breaths and gathered her thoughts.

Jenny pulled herself up to her full height as she braced herself against the table sitting next to her. "Matt…I don't think you realize how much I understand this—this need you think you have. We all do what you do when we grieve—we look for something constant to hold onto. Something we know won't fallout from beneath us when everything else in our world is falling apart. I get it, I do. But when that constant starts to take over every part of your life, as yours has done, it becomes a problem—an _obsession_."

Matt swallowed, and looked down at the floor. "Jenny." He looked up and took a step towards her, wrapping his hands around her tiny shoulders. "I can't stop."

Her face seemed to crumble under his words, her hand reaching up to cup the back of his neck. "I'm not asking you to stop, Matt; I'm only asking you to cut back a little. Take a break every now and then to take care of yourself."

He felt one side of his lips twitch up into something that felt too broken and twisted to be a smile. "What if I can't?"

Jenny leveled her gaze with his for a moment that seemed to stretch on for a long time. Eventually, though, she let out a soft breath. "Then…I don't know what I'll do with you, probably hide your typewriter or something." She offered him a soft smile.

Matt snorted, and rolled his eyes. "You'd never hide it anywhere I couldn't find it. Besides, you're a terrible liar; it would be too easy to get a confession out of you."

She raised one eyebrow. "Wanna bet on that?"

The two of them got locked into a stare down, and Matt could feel the static in the air rolling off of him in waves as he met the challenge in Jenny's eyes with one of his own.

The moment seemed to drag on as neither sibling was willing to back down.

Finally, Matt broke the stare to pull Jenny into a fierce embrace. "I love you, you idiot, did you know that?"

Her giggle was muffled by his shoulder. "I did. I love you too, you daft alien."

"Oi, alien?" He pulled away to show her his hurt expression.

Jenny grinned and smacked his chest. "C'mon, you should get some sleep."

Matt gnawed on his lip, and glanced back towards his study. The compulsion to lock himself in and write until the sun came up was tugging at his limbs like puppet strings. What would a few extra hours awake hurt? He could take a nap tomorrow to catch up on the lost sleep, right?

"Matt, don't." Jenny's tone was firm. "It'll all still be there when you wake up."

He forced his eyes to tear away from the door of his study to settle on her. "Yeah," he rasped. "You're right."

Jenny smiled and linked their arms together. "Here, I'll help you, yeah? We'll go upstairs together."

Matt felt a warm feeling spread across his chest as he smiled down at his sister; she looked up at him with hopeful eyes – that little slice of doubt that he would comply with her request still evident in the way she was pinching her face.

"Yeah," he said. "Let's go."

Jenny rewarded him with a beaming smile as they approached the stairs. They stopped just before Matt's toes could touch the base of the staircase, and he glanced down at her one more time.

"Together?" he asked.

She nodded. "One step at a time."

He smiled softly, and tried his hardest not to glance back towards the study again. That tug was still there; the compulsion to turn around and abandon the effort he was making now almost unbearable to resist.

But as the two of them took their first steps onto the stairs, he felt Jenny's hand squeeze his arm, and it was that small show of support that caused the force of the desire to lessen.

Matt felt his body relax with every slow step towards the top until finally, finally, he could let go of Jenny's arm without the need to run back downstairs as fast as his legs would carry him.

Jenny looked so proud of him that Matt almost felt the need to blush. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Matt didn't say anything. He merely leaned down to kiss his sister's cheek, before turning around and disappearing into his bedroom.


	16. Chapter 16: Nostalgia

****Many, many thanks go out to Sassywriterchick and NoLongerAGuest for your kind reviews.****

* * *

**Chapter 15: Nostalgia**

Clara's favorite holiday, by far, was New Year's. She couldn't quite say what it was that made her love the celebration so much. There was just something in the air that was completely infectious to her. Maybe it was because she had so many good memories surrounding this holiday from when her mother was still alive; maybe it was because she was a hopeless romantic. She had always been a sucker for nostalgia.

Either way, she was determined to enjoy the holiday.

Clara bit her lip as she tiptoed towards Matt's bedroom on stocking feet. His door was halfway open, his room barely lit by the slim rays of sunlight that were trying to peek their way through his curtains.

She smiled at the sight before her: Matt was sprawled out across his bed, each one of his limbs stretched out into a different direction and a light snore coming from his mouth.

Clara crept up to the side of his bed and paused for a moment. Matt sleeping was a rare sight in itself, to see him so free and peaceful sent a warm feeling through Clara's chest.

She loathed waking him up, but they had places to be and things to do. So, after taking a few precautionary steps backwards, Clara aimed the air horn in her hand towards him, and pressed down on the trigger.

She tried desperately to stifle the hysterical laughter that tried to escape her lips when his reaction came just as she expected it to. Every one of Matt's gangly limbs flailed as his eyes popped wide open and he tried in vain to jump out of bed.

"Clara?" he cried just as his tangled legs slipped off of the bed and his whole body hit the floor with a loud bang.

Clara couldn't help it, she doubled over laughing. Her whole body shook as she curled her arms around her sides and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Well, I'm glad one of us finds this amusing," Matt grumbled as he tried to untangle himself from the sheets.

"I'm sorry," Clara gasped in between fits of giggles. "I'm sorry, I can't help it. Are you alright?"

Matt waved her off and stalked passed her for the bathroom. "I'm fine."

"Aw, c'mon, Matt." Clara tossed the air horn onto his dresser and ran after him. "It was just a bit of holiday fun, that's all."

Matt quirked an eyebrow at her. "Holiday fun? You call that holiday fun? Giving me a near heart attack is _holiday fun_?"

Clara gave him her brightest smile. "Yes?"

He put up a finger. "You see? This—this right here is why I hate New Year's."

She rolled her eyes and shoved him towards the bathroom. "Oh, don't be such a spoilsport, Matt. You're going to have fun this year; I'll make sure of it."

He snorted. "You _are_ impossible."

She smirked and skipped towards the stairs. "Don't be long; your parents are expecting us by noon."

He rolled his eyes at her and banged his way into the bathroom.

Clara couldn't help the little smile that crept across her face as the door slammed shut. He was too easy to mess with.

She was heading into the kitchen to find some breakfast when her mobile buzzed in her pocket. Clara pulled out the phone and checked the caller ID, and groaned when she saw who was calling her.

She brought the phone up to her ear. "Yes?"

"And a happy New Year to you, too," her father chided. "I was just calling to ask what your plans are for the holiday."

Clara rolled her eyes. "Matt's parents invited us over to their house."

"Oh, well that's…that's lovely." Clara could hear him shifting around uncomfortably.

She sighed. "Did you want something?"

"Well, actually, I was wondering if you would be willing to spend your New Year's with me. There are a few people here that I would really like for you to meet." Clara could hear the nervous stutter leaking into her father's voice.

"Dad, I don't think—"

Clara jumped when a door slammed open upstairs. "Clara, I can't find my red bowtie, have you seen it?"

She pulled in a deep breath. "Have you looked in your top drawer?"

"Clara, these people really want to meet you. It's important to me that they meet you." Her dad was pleading with her now, his voice taking on a slightly desperate tone.

"Dad, I'm sorry, but the Tylers are expecting me. I can't just drop everything and come see you." Clara tried to keep her impatience from leaking into her voice, but couldn't quite manage it. "Maybe I'll come meet these friends of yours in a few days, yeah? Good?"

"Found it!" Matt exclaimed as he came bounding down the stairs with the bowtie held up high in his hand.

"But, Clara—"

"No, Dad. I'll come meet your friends in a few weeks, but not tonight. Have a lovely New Year's." Clara couldn't hold back the irritated edge in her voice, and hung up the phone with more force than was strictly necessary.

Matt shifted on his feet. "Everything alright?"

She gave him a tight smile and forced herself to wave it off. "Yeah, everything's fine. Let me just grab some toast, and we'll be off, yeah?"

"Sure." He nodded. "Is your bag already packed?"

She nodded towards the door. "Right there." She spun around on one heel and headed for the kitchen again. Her toast was already waiting on the counter, a slab of butter melting on the side.

Clara took a moment to close her eyes and roll her head to the side before she hurried through making her breakfast to run back out into the lounge.

"Are you ready?" Matt asked from the front door.

She nodded, and handed him the other slice of toast. "Let's go."

Matt tried to dodge the raindrops as he ran out to his car with his travel bag in one hand and Clara's in the other.

Clara laughed as he let out a war cry and yelled at two innocent bystanders to get out of his way. The old woman shot both him and Clara a glare, but all Clara could do was give her an apologetic shrug of her shoulders as she followed Matt to his car.

"Young lady, you should tell your boyfriend to be more respectful," the old woman croaked as Clara passed her.

She blushed. "He's not my boyfriend, but I'll tell him."

The woman gave her a little huff and latched on to her husband's arm. "Let's go, Herald."

Herald gave Clara an apologetic look and mouthed the word 'help' with a teasing smile.

Clara smiled at him and slipped into the car.

"Ready?" Matt asked.

"You really upset that poor woman," Clara told him as he started up the car.

He glanced over his shoulder. "Did I?"

Clara smacked his arm. "I'm serious, Chin Boy, you should be more careful."

Matt rolled his eyes as he pulled away from the curb. "Yes, boss."

Clara paused, and raised her eyebrows at him. "Did you just call me the boss?"

His face scrunched up as he realized his mistake. "What? No! No, of course not. I'm the boss."

She smirked. "Whatever you say, Doctor."

He grumbled something under his breath, and Clara giggled.

"Oh no," Matt huffed. "Look at this."

Clara glanced up just as the sight of flashing police car lights and a huge tree laid out across the road came into view.

"Is there any other way to get around?"

Matt sighed heavily. "Yes, but it'll take us a bit longer. Can you call my parents?"

"Sure," Clara said as she pulled out her mobile. "I'll put it on speaker."

They listened to her phone ring as the police officers guided them back down the way they had come.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mum, it's Matt. We've run into a bit of a problem here." Matt had to speak loudly over the rain. "A tree fell over the entrance to the A13, so we'll have to find another route. Don't worry if we're a bit late, everything's fine."

"Oh no, I'm so sorry. I'll tell your Dad, you two be safe, yeah? It's a real storm out there." Rose's tone was worried, and Clara could almost imagine the crinkle between her eyebrows.

"I'll make sure he drives straight," she joked.

Matt rolled his eyes, and Rose laughed. "Thanks, Clara. See you both soon."

"Bye, Mum."

Clara hung up the phone and bit the inside of her cheek. "Well, what now?"

"Now, we are going to find another entrance." Matt glanced over and chuckled at her dubious expression. "Cheer up; it'll be an adventure!"

She rolled her eyes. "As long as you keep us on the road I won't worry, Chin Boy."

He shot her an annoyed look. "Oi, no knocking my driving. Remember that I'm your only ride."

She smiled. "Oh, I'm sure I could get Jack or Amy to take me home if I asked."

Matt growled with mild irritation. "I'd like to see you try to drive."

Clara raised her eyebrows. "Do you have a death wish?"

"Not particularly, no." He quickly turned them onto another entrance to the A13. "Would you send Jenny a text so she knows we're on our way?"

Clara nodded, and pulled her phone back out.

"So did you?" Matt asked after a small moment of silence.

"Did I, what?"

"Ever learn to drive."

"No." Her throat suddenly felt very tight. "I never even applied."

"Why not?"

It was an innocent enough question, but Clara couldn't help the feeling of irritation that abruptly took ahold of her. "Can we just drop this? I don't see why it's important."

"I'm just curious, Clara, there's no need to feel defensive." Matt's tone was soothing.

"I'm not getting defensive," she snapped.

They both listened to the rain in silence for a moment.

"Amy's excited to see you again," Matt said. "And she'll have her husband, Rory, with her this time. You'd like Rory, I think. He's a nice bloke."

"He must have a lot of patience," Clara commented dryly.

Matt chuckled. "He does, yeah, and not just because he's married to Amy. You should see what Jack and I used to do to him."

She snorted. "What, did you used to steal his clothes during gym?"

He flicked his eyes towards her, but kept a straight face. "Well, it was all with good intention. We wanted to see if he was man enough for Amy."

Clara let out a disbelieving laugh. "You didn't! Oh, poor Rory!"

Matt grinned smugly. "That's what Amy used to say."

Clara smacked the side of his arm. "You're such a jerk."

"_Was_," he corrected. "I _was_ such a jerk. And I wasn't alone; Jack was the mastermind of the whole thing. If you really think about it, I was just a poor youth swept up in the charms of my charismatic and devious friend."

Clara rolled her eyes. "Oh, you loved it."

"Every second," he laughed. "Jack has a marvelous sense of adventure."

The two of them fell into a companionable silence as the miles passed them by. The rain was starting to fall even harder, making it increasingly difficult for Matt to keep them from swerving off of the road.

Clara gripped the edge of the seat again as he jerked them back onto the road for the umpteenth time. "Maybe we should just stop somewhere. I'm sure Rose and David will understand if we can't make it tonight."

"Oh, where's your sense of adventure, Clara?" Matt teased. "We'll make it, I'm sure the weather will clear up soon."

Clara bit her lip, but kept her mouth shut. Her heart was pounding and all she could see of the car in front of them were the taillights, which seemed to be swerving even more so than they were.

"Matt, we need to pull over," she said through clenched teeth.

"Clara, its fine, the exit is right there. We'll be off in just a moment."

Her eyes locked on the little sign directing them off of the main motorway and onto roads—Clara hoped—that were safer.

It was just as they were getting onto their exit that the car hydroplaned.

"Matt!" Clara screeched as the car launched itself across the road.

"I've got it!" Matt shouted back as he attempted to regain control of the vehicle.

Clara squeezed her eyes shut as they headed for the dirt bank at the side of the road and tried not to scream. She needed to stay calm, but all she could see behind her eyelids were pictures of her mum's accident. The sights and sounds were so familiar, the moment of complete terror stuck on loop in her head.

"Mum!" she cried out impulsively. She could see it all behind her eyelids now: glass shattering, metal crunching, white bed sheets and waking up alone.

Oh, God, it was happening all over again.

"There!" Matt exclaimed as the car began to slow down. "I've got it!"

The car came to a sudden stop, and Clara slowly opened her eyes. They were parked on the side of the road with only inches between them and the cement wall.

Clara felt her heart pounding in her ears and tried desperately to calm her breathing. Her whole body was shaking and her brain was stuck on a loop. She could feel the full blown anxiety attack coming her way, so she unhooked her seatbelt and leaned forward to press her head against her knees.

"Hey." Matt reached out to rub her back. "It's alright, we're alright." His voice was shaky and Clara could feel the tremors in his fingers.

She simply nodded, and focused on her breathing.

"Hey, Clara, look at me." Matt pulled one of her hands out of her hair and gently coaxed her chin up so their eyes would meet. "We're okay."

Clara couldn't help it—she let out the sob that had been building inside of her chest. There were no tears, but Clara couldn't bring herself to reign in the hysteria that now had a firm grip on her heart.

Matt undid his seatbelt and yanked her as close to him as she would go. Clara clung to his waist as he curled her up against him, running a hand through her hair in an attempt to soothe her.

"Shh," he whispered, "it's okay, Clara, we're going to be alright."

She answered him with something that sounded somewhere between a sob and a scream. Clara pressed a hand to her mouth in an attempt to quiet herself. Matt shouldn't see this; Clara never wanted him to see her this way.

"I—I'm sorry, Matt." She choked between gasps of air, "I'm sorry."

"Shh." Matt let his head slowly fall until his lips were resting against her hair. "Don't be sorry, Clara. You don't have anything to be sorry for."

Clara squeezed her eyes shut—the smallest of tears leaking out of the corners. She was infuriated with herself; she wasn't supposed to appear weak in front of anyone—least of all, him.

"I'm sorry," she murmured again.

He didn't try to correct her this time. Instead, he quietly held her while she worked through the anxiety. She clung to him like a lifeline, and he let her. He let her squeeze him tight enough that Clara was sure he couldn't breathe. He let her ruin his shirt with the few tears that managed to escape her. He let her have her moment of weakness while the rain started coming down harder and the heating system in the car blasted on high.

And finally, she pulled away.

"Thank you."

He swiped a stray tear off of her cheek. "You're welcome."

Clara captured his hand and gave his fingers a sharp squeeze. "I mean it."

They stared at each other for a moment, their hands still loosely intertwined. Clara felt her heart flutter against her chest when he squeezed back.

"So do I."

She blinked, and pulled her hand away. "So, shall we?"

Matt looked out into the rain and let out a long breath. "Maybe we should stop somewhere."

Clara swallowed, and shook her head. "We're almost there."

"Clara," Matt said.

"Matt," she countered, matching his tone. "Where's that sense of adventure?"

"Clara, a few minutes ago you were the one that wanted us to stop, and I almost just knocked us off of the bloody road! We can miss tonight."

She shook her head. "I promised you fun on New Year's. Let's go."

Matt huffed, and put the car back into drive. "You are insane, aren't you?"

Clara smiled slightly. "That's why you like me."

He rolled his eyes, and got them back onto the road.

* * *

They made it to the Tyler's house without further incident, much to Clara and Matt's relief. Most of the remaining time was spent listening to the radio and watching the rain—neither party was willing to speak. The tension from the near-accident never quite went away, and Clara found herself having to fend off an anxiety attack more than once during the ride.

Matt took in a relieved breath as he finally pulled them into the driveway and turned the engine off. "Well that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Clara allowed a nervous laugh to bubble out of her lips. "Guess you could say that."

"Shall we go in?"

She looked out into the pouring rain, and heaved a giant breath. "I suppose so."

Clara was absolutely soaked the instant she left the safety of the car. She let out a shriek when the strong, cold wind hit her square in the chest. She heard Matt's laughter as he pulled out their luggage, and sprinted after him towards the porch.

They were greeted with an open door and two large towels.

"Happy New Year!" Jenny shouted as she slammed the door shut.

"Happy New Year!" Both Clara and Matt shouted back enthusiastically.

"Jenny, bring them in!" Jack's voice boomed.

She grinned at them, her blue eyes sparkling. "You're not too late for the party."

"Good!" Matt cried, smacking his hands together as they followed his sister into the kitchen.

Everyone in the room held up a drink at their arrival. "Happy New Year!"

Clara couldn't help the wide smile that threatened to break her cheeks apart. "Happy New Year!"

"And it's only half past one; I'm surprised you made it as early as you did." David grinned, and stepped closer to pull Clara's small body into an engulfing hug, "good to see you again, sweetheart."

Her smile softened. "You too, David."

He nodded towards Matt as they parted. "This one's not giving you too much trouble, I hope."

"Oi!" Matt cried out indignantly.

Clara giggled. "No he's not, not yet anyway."

"Clara!" Matt's voice climbed an octave.

"Oh, my poor Raggedy Man, can't take a little teasing?" Amy grinned as she pulled him in for a hug. "It's good to see you."

"And you," Matt said, smiling affectionately as he patted her cheek, "and Rory!"

Clara smiled as Jack gently pulled her into a friendly embrace. "Always good to see you, Oswald."

"And you, Harkness." She replied, "I do hope you've managed to keep yourself out of trouble since I last saw you."

Jack winked. "Oh, you know me, Clara. I just can't help myself."

* * *

Neither Clara nor Matt drank during the party, but they had a good time anyway. The rain had stopped sometime before nine O'clock, and now all eight of them were squished into the Tyler's front lounge to watch the countdown on television.

Matt sat back with Clara on the couch to watch the rest of them dancing around to some Beatles song blasting through the stereo.

"Feeling alright?" he shouted.

Clara grinned. "Yeah, course I am."

"You just seem a bit tense," he noted.

She blinked, surprised, and felt her shoulders relax. Clara shrugged. "Guess I'm just feeling a bit claustrophobic."

He nodded towards the kitchen. "Want to step out?" She nodded. Matt stood up and offered her his hand. "Follow me."

Clara allowed him to pull her to her feet and followed him into the kitchen. The door swung shut behind them and Clara let out a small sigh of relief.

"Better?" Matt asked.

She laughed. "Yes."

There was a loud chorus of laughter that burst through the walls separating the kitchen from the living room, and Clara felt herself relax even more. The air inside of the kitchen was cooler and much easier to breathe.

Matt smiled. "Sorry, if you haven't noticed already, my family tends to get excited over the holidays."

Clara grinned. "I like it, actually. It reminds me of the New Year's parties my mum used to throw for our family when I was a kid."

Matt sat down on one of the barstools. "Oh yeah?"

She nodded. "Yeah, she used to invite a bunch of my family over, and the neighbors, and our friends…just about anyone who wanted to come, really. The house was never quiet over the holidays."

"Did she bake her soufflés?" Matt asked with a teasing grin.

Clara smiled softly, her eyes resting on a pair of wineglasses catching the soft light coming from the fixture over the sink. "Loads of them; my Dad and I used to try to sneak off with a few, but she'd always catch us. She always knew exactly how many she'd made."

Matt chuckled. "I think I would've liked your mum."

Clara glanced up at him, and grinned. "Yes, I think you would have. She probably would've liked you, too."

They were quiet for a moment.

"So what about you?" Clara asked. "What did your family do?"

Matt pursed his lips. "Well…Paul always liked to invite a few of his…livelier friends over, so mum used to take me out for a night on the town. We didn't have a lot of money, but she always managed to take me out for chips on New Year's." He smiled to himself. "We'd eat in this tiny little shop a few blocks over from the apartment, and then she'd take me to this little park…" He trailed off, his eyes faraway.

"I'm sorry, Matt." Clara reached out to cover his hand with her own.

He shook his head. "Its fine." He patted her hand once. "I'm fine."

Clara bit down on her lower lip, but didn't object. Matt clearly wasn't fine. The grief was clearly written all across his features, but Clara didn't want to push him. He so rarely spoke of his life before the Tylers took him in, and she knew he had good reasons for that. She just couldn't help but feel a gnawing curiosity whenever he did talk about his past. She was only human, after all.

"Matt."

"Hm?"

"You're not okay," she said simply.

He stared at her. "How do you do that?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Just…know things like that." He sounded baffled, and the bewilderment was clear on his face.

Clara smiled softly. "Those big, sad eyes of yours."

"Ah," he said. "I didn't realize I was so transparent."

She chuckled and patted his hand. "Only to the people who know you well enough."

They both glanced up when the others could be heard counting down the final seconds until midnight.

"Ten! Nine, eight!"

Clara jerked her head towards the door. "Want to join them?"

Matt shrugged. "Maybe in a bit."

"Six, five, four!"

Clara sat down on the barstool next to him. "Three, two…"

"Happy New Year!"

Matt smiled. "Happy New Year, Clara."

She grinned. "Happy New Year."

They listened to the sounds of the rest of his family singing in the front room.

Clara glanced up when she heard Matt humming. "Don't tell me you're going to get nostalgic on me."

Matt laughed at her. "Who me? Never."

Clara rolled her eyes and nudged his arm with her shoulder. "We should probably rejoin the others before they get any ideas."

"Yeah," Matt said quietly, allowing her to haul him to his feet, "wouldn't want that."

Jack greeted them with a raised glass. "And there's our favorite couple! We were just starting to worry about you two." He wiggled his eyebrows and took a generous sip of champagne.

Matt immediately dropped Clara's hand. "Jack!"

Rose laughed as she slung one arm over Clara's shoulder. "Oh, don't be so bashful." She leaned into Clara conspiratorially. "He'll relax around you someday, I promise."

Clara only laughed. "I'm sure he will."

Amy stumbled towards her. "He's a _great_ kisser, Clara, believe me."

Both Matt and Clara blushed all the way up to their ears. "Amy!" Matt hissed.

"What?" she demanded. Her accent was thicker than usual, making it harder to understand her. "I'm not gonna lie to the poor girl, am I?"

"Amy!" Rory cried.

"And with that, I think I'll say goodnight." Clara quickly ducked out from under Rose's arm and darted for the stairs. "See you all in the morning!"

A chorus of "'Night, Clara!" followed her to the stairs. She barely waved back at them in her mad dash for her room. She could still feel the heat of embarrassment in her cheeks, and her heart was doing its strange flutter again.

"Clara, wait!" Matt cried.

She grumbled under her breath, but stopped at the top of the stairs. "Yes?"

He paused just one step below her. "I'm sorry. They wouldn't normally do that, it's just…" He waved his hands about uselessly. "New Year's."

Clara shook her head. "Its fine, Matt. It doesn't bother me."

His eyebrows pulled together. "Yes it does."

She sucked in her cheeks—a habit she'd picked up from him—and spun away from him. "No it doesn't, I'll see you in the morning."

"Clara," Matt tried to follow her. "Why are you upset? I don't understand; was it something I did?"

She blinked, and looked up at him. "I'm not upset."

"Then why are you acting defensive?" he countered.

She opened her mouth, but the words seemed to get caught in her throat. She pursed her lips and tried again. "How do you know things like that?"

He half smiled at her. "It's those big, sad eyes."

Clara glanced down at her hands. "It doesn't bother me," she said softly.

Matt cocked his head to the side. "Are you sure?"

Clara waited until her heart had calmed down a little to answer him. "Yes, I'm sure. Can I go to bed now?"

He glanced up at her door. "Yeah, sure…hey, come find me if you need me, my room is just across the hall."

She looked up at his door, and her lips pulled up into something that was almost a smile. "Yeah, okay."

Matt caught her hand as she passed him. She stopped, and looked up at him.

He stared at her for a moment, and her heart started to pick up speed again. "Yes?"

Her heart nearly stopped when she felt something shift and the intensity in Matt's eyes changed. She had to force herself to breathe when his lips twitched into a smirk, and he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

She closed her eyes, and leaned in to his touch.

"Happy New Year," he murmured, and swiftly spun around on his heel to disappear into his room.


	17. Chapter 17: Auld Lang Syne

**Hello all. Sorry for the wait, but I really had to get this right. Without giving anything away, I will say that this chapter is very important to the plot. Thank you all for your patience and understanding.**

**Thank you to Sassywriterchick, for your review on the last chapter.**

**HUGE shout out to my lovely Beta, Melt into the Air, for everything she's done to help me improve my writing and this story. I highly recommend her to anyone in search of a Beta.**

* * *

**Chapter 16: Auld Lang Syne.**

Matt hated New Year's Eve. He always had, and now he was convinced that he always would. New Year's always used to be a perfect excuse for Paul to drink even more than he usually did, which meant most of the holiday would consist of Matt and his mum hiding in their room with the door locked and the dresser shoved in front of it. That is, until they could escape out of the back window.

Matt let a small smile ghost across his features. He truly cherished those few memories he had of his mother at her brightest—when the two of them were able to escape Paul's oppressive nature for a few hours and for one, tiny, moment the world would look beautiful again.

He closed his eyes and gave himself over to his memories.

_"Do you see that, Matthew?"_ his mother whispered as she pulled his back against her torso.

He looked up at where she pointed just as an explosion of color could be seen lighting up the sky.

She leaned in to whisper in his ear, _"They say that everyone's soul has a color—a light that shines within."_

A six year old Matt's eyes widened with awe. _"Is that what they are?"_

He felt her soft chuckle vibrate against his back. _"No, love. Those are just fireworks, but look beyond the fireworks and tell me what you see."_

He squinted. _"Stars?"_

His mother rested her chin on his head. _"Souls."_

Matt's eyes reopened as he pulled himself away from the memory. Once his mother had passed away he stopped celebrating New Year's. He would close himself up in his room when Paul and his friends started getting rowdy, but the window stayed shut.

So what was the day to him now? Without his mother or Clara around, the holiday seemed rather pointless. They were the only two he had ever enjoyed spending this night with. Somehow, they took the dark tinges of his memories of Paul on New Year's away and replaced them with bright smiles and warm laughter. Of course, he knew that wasn't fair to the family he had now, but he couldn't help but resent their attempts to replace the memories of his mother and Clara with new ones of their own making.

At first, his friends and family used to try to pull him out for the festivities—they could understand why he hated it, and yet they still insisted that he participate. Matt would go along with it, allowing himself to be dragged out for family gatherings and parties despite his numerous protests. He knew it wasn't fair of him to spoil their fun, after all, and he didn't want to be selfish. And while there were times he had a bit of fun, all of it would always be ruined by the memories that would bubble up against his will. Eventually, it would get to the point where Matt could barely take enjoyment out of any part of the holiday.

There was one time, however, when he did enjoy New Year's.

Matt closed his eyes again, and focused on the more recent memory.

_"Don't tell me you're going to get all nostalgic on me."_

He smiled slightly, and slowly opened his eyes. He should've kissed her that night. He had wanted to, and had come very close to giving in to his urges, but it wouldn't have been right. There was still so much more he hadn't known about her at that point. Things that he would come to be grateful for knowing later, before he had plunged over that invisible line they had drawn between them. The line that had seemed to grow thinner and thinner with each passing day he spent with her.

Matt could feel her there next to him now—her warm breath tickling his cheek and her soft eyelashes fluttering against his skin. If he listened hard enough, he could even hear her light giggle echo into his ears.

He knew she was going to be everywhere today.

Matt sucked in a deep breath, pulling the air all the way down to his toes for courage.

"Ready?"

He glanced up at Rose and David's house. The usually homey feeling he got while visiting here had been replaced with a cold dread that was steadily snaking its way out from his heart to the very tips of his fingers and toes. He didn't want to do this, not today.

"Yeah," he said.

Jenny smiled, and stepped around to the back of the car to gather their bags. She had all but dragged him out of the house this morning, and it was due to her sheer amount of ferocious determination that Matt was standing in this driveway now, about to subject himself to over twelve hours of halfhearted smiles and the echoes of a past he could never repeat.

"Remind me why we're here again?" Matt asked as he took the bags off of her.

She let out a long, slow breath. He knew that he was trying her patience with this constant question, but he couldn't help it. If they wanted him here, he needed to be reminded.

"Because you wanted to have one last night with the Ponds before they leave."

He nodded. "Right."

The two of them quietly walked all the way up to the front door. Jenny opened it without hesitation and stepped inside.

Matt swallowed down his tiny stab of jealousy as he followed her inside. Jenny had always held a confidence with their adoptive parents that he had never possessed. Of course, she had been with them for much longer than Matt. The three of them held a bond that Matt would probably never have a chance at claiming he was a part of, and occasionally that gnawed at him. It shouldn't; he knew Rose and David loved him with everything they were, but he couldn't help the feelings that would bubble up inside of him whenever he was reminded of their relationship with Jenny.

Matt could hear voices coming out of the kitchen, but other than the occasional laugh, the house was fairly quiet.

"Hello?" Jenny called out loudly. "Anybody home?"

There was a rustling sound that came out of the lounge, and then Jack appeared in the doorway. "You guys made it!"

Matt forced himself to smile when his friend rushed over with his arms wide open.

"You didn't think we'd miss this, did you?" Jenny laughed as she accepted his hug.

Jack grinned. "You? No. Matt on the other hand…"

Matt rolled his eyes. "I'm here, Jack, don't push it."

His friend only laughed and took the overnight bags out of Matt's hands. "Everyone's in the kitchen; I'll be right behind you."

Matt stood still in the doorway for a moment while Jack ran up the stairs and Jenny headed confidently for the kitchen. He needed to gather himself. He didn't want to be here, but he couldn't let them know that. Besides, this would be his last night with the Ponds for a good long while. He couldn't mope all night.

Matt took in one last minute of quiet, and headed after Jenny.

"There he is!" Amy shouted enthusiastically from her place on a barstool next to Rory.

He grinned as she hopped to her feet and half ran for him. "You didn't think I was going to miss out on my last chance to make your life hell, did you?"

She laughed and punched his arm playfully. "Shut up, Smith."

Matt stepped forward to greet Rory. "Good to see you, mate."

"You too," Rory replied.

"Oh, Matt, did you bring the new chapter I asked for?" Rose asked eagerly as she spun around him for the stove.

"It's in my bag. I'll get it later," he promised.

"There's my boy!" David's voiced boomed as he entered the crowded room. "How's the head?"

Matt grinned as his Dad clapped him on the back. "Good. I still get a bit muddled now and then, but the doc says I should be able to get back to work soon."

"Good thing, too," Jack commented as he joined them. "Sharon's getting antsy without you there."

"She's not thinking about giving me the sack, is she?"

"Oh no," Jack held up his hands in reassurance. "No, it's nothing like that. She just misses having you around. The paper's ratings have gone down since your articles were handed off to the sub and Sharon's about fed up with him."

"Who's running my column?" Matt's curiosity was peaked now. It had been so long since he had actually gone to work. He hadn't thought it would be possible to miss it as much as he did.

"Um, some baby faced guy named Alonso. The kid's fresh out of university and doesn't really have the swing of things yet."

"Sound familiar?" Amy raised her eyebrows as she handed him a drink.

"I propose a toast!" David cried suddenly, holding his drink up high above his head and pulling Rose against his side. "I know it's been a rough year for all of us." He looked pointedly at Matt. "But I'm thankful for each and every one of you. So here's to absent friends, and times gone by."

Matt paused, allowing David's words to sink in for a moment, before taking a sip of his drink.

* * *

Dinner that night was a rowdy affair. Then again, dinner with all of them under one roof was always rowdy. And Matt couldn't help but allow himself to be swept along with the festivities. That feeling was still there, deep in his stomach. He could still feel her everywhere—the echo of her ghost still whispered in his ears and he could still catch sight of her in the corners of his eyes, but Matt found himself enjoying the night. As long as he focused on the reason he was here—Amy and Rory—he was fine.

Matt entered the kitchen to refill his cup. They were all in the lounge now, watching the events going on around Big Ben and waiting for the count down. It wouldn't be long now; the clock read well past eleven.

He was just about to rejoin them all in the other room when something caught his eye. He wasn't sure how he hadn't noticed it before—it was a rather bulky picture frame sitting somewhat conspicuously in the middle of the counter.

That wasn't what had caught his eye, however. No, he was far more captivated by the picture _inside_ of the frame.

It was a day he remembered well. And he should, it had been the happiest day of his life—the most important day of his life.

Matt swallowed thickly as the image of smiling faces and a white dress stared up at him. There was an exact copy of this picture back at the house. It was one of the two of them—him and Clara—surrounded by their friends and family just after their wedding ceremony.

God, she looked so happy. Her bright face was staring up at him, their eyes locked on each other as chaos ensued around them. They were fresh and just starting out on their brand new life together, and they looked so blissfully happy.

Matt felt a heavy weight land on his chest. He didn't recognize the man in this picture. The man staring down at his precious Clara with a radiant smile may have worn Matt's features, but he wasn't Matt. At least, not anymore.

Matt felt himself grow nauseous as he set the picture back down. Something inside of him had snapped, and he couldn't take it anymore; he had to get out.

Matt didn't know where he was going, really—he just knew that anywhere was better than here. In this house that was supposed to be his last sanctuary but had really become hers. Always hers—everything was hers.

His feet stopped at the edge of the cliffs, and for a brief moment his heart stopped. He couldn't remember coming outside, and certainly not heading for the bluffs.

A brief flash of a memory played out in Matt's mind; one he had hoped he would forget.

_"I thought up my word,"_ she whispered, and laughed without humor.

Matt shivered; whether it was against the cold or the distinct sound of her voice in his head, he wasn't sure.

He opened his eyes slowly, and stared out into the haze of the horizon. The muggy cold of the fog clung to his skin and wrapped around his body like a snug glove. When he looked back he could barely see the lights of the house, and if he squinted, he could just make out a figure walking towards him.

"Clara?" he whispered.

"Matt!" Amy's sharp voice cut through the fog. "What are you doing?"

Matt shook himself, feeling foolish for his mistake, and shrugged. "Enjoying the view."

She stopped beside him, an incredulous look on her face. "From the Cliffside?"

He sighed, and carefully sat on the wet ground, his legs dangling over the side. "Sure, why not?"

She settled herself beside him and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Matt swallowed. "For what?"

Amy squeezed his arm. "For leaving you."

He rolled his eyes. "I think I can survive without you, Pond. Besides, it's not like we'll never see each other again. They invented things like skype for a reason."

She chuckled, "Yeah, I know, but I still don't like it."

Matt took one of her hands into both of his. "I'm getting better, Amelia. I have a good support here. You have a life—go live it."

Amy stared at him for a long moment. "Don't be nice to me," she grumbled. "I don't want you to be nice to me."

He laughed softly. "Yeah you do, Pond, and you always get what you want."

She sighed, and leaned her head against his shoulder. "How are you, really? I mean, you seemed like you were feeling better, but then…" she trailed off, "I don't know, you just…I could see you, you know. When you thought no one was watching. I saw the look in your eyes."

"What look?"

Amy shrugged. "That one you get whenever you think about her. All the light goes out of your face and you're just…gone. Somewhere far away."

Matt kept his eyes fixed on the foggy horizon. "I'm not gone, just…thinking."

She waited for him to elaborate.

He sighed, "What if we had gotten there sooner? I dunno, I just keep thinking…the signs were all there—shouldn't we have seen it? Shouldn't I have seen it?"

He glanced down. Amy was pursing her lips, "Matt, even her therapist didn't see it."

"I know!" he cried, throwing his hands up in the air. "But what if—"

"Exactly," she interrupted him, "what _if_."

Matt blinked. "I don't understand."

Amy pushed away from him so they could face each other. "Matt, you're never going to get anywhere if you keep asking the what if questions. What _if_ you had seen the signs? What_ if_ you got to her sooner—what _if_ you caught on when she stopped taking her pills?" She raised her eyebrows. "Would Clara still be alive?"

They fell into a tense silence broke only by the sounds of the waves crashing against the sand.

"Yes," Matt answered finally, "no…maybe." He scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. "I don't know."

"Exactly," Amy whispered, "you don't know. You did everything you could, Matt. You could've done more, yeah, but who's to say it would've prevented what happened?"

They were both quiet for a long time. Matt could hear cheering coming from the house far behind them, and allowed himself one quick glance back at the circle of bright light. He swallowed down a lump in his throat, and forced his eyes to turn back to what lay before him.

"Matt…"

"Hm?"

"Have ever considered…I dunno, seeing someone?" Amy's voice was small, and she fidgeted nervously against him. "You know, about…"

"No," Matt said firmly. "No, that's not going to happen. I'm fine, Amy, I don't need anyone."

"Matt, I just found you alone and dangerously close to a Cliffside. Maybe talking to someone would be a good idea," her voice was stronger now. "It could help."

"Or it might not," Matt countered. "I'm doing better Amy, I promise. I don't need some shrink to try to get me in touch with my inner feelings. I can do that by myself if I so choose."

Amy sighed tiredly and sagged against him. "I know you can Matt, but you should consider it. I didn't tell you this, but Rory and I went to see someone after…after. And it really helped us. I know Jenny did too."

Matt looked down at her with shock. "Jenny went to see a therapist?"

She nodded. "For a while, at least. I don't know if she still goes, but I do." Her eyes flicked away from him as though she were embarrassed to be admitting this. "I really needed to come to grips with…all of it. And I think therapy has really helped me. I mean, after that day I kept having these horrible nightmares…but after talking to someone, they've stopped."

Matt couldn't tear his eyes away from Amy. In all the years he'd known the fiery Scottish woman, he had never believed she would ever willingly submit herself to any kind of therapy. Until now, Amy's firm belief had been that all therapists were condescending quacks who didn't really have the ability to help any patient they treated. He remembered her telling him once that she used to bite the psychiatrists one of her foster parents had forced her to go to. If he remembered correctly, she had ended up seeing a total of four before that particular set of foster parents had given up on her completely.

"What makes you think talking to a therapist could help me?" he finally demanded.

She shrugged. "Well, the way I figure it,if a psychologist was able to get through to me, and even help me, then they should be able to do a lot more good for you."

"What makes you think I can be saved?"

She hadn't said it, not really, but Matt knew that Amy was clinging to the hope that he would be able to beat this bought of depression he had been wallowing in. That one day he would be able to smile, really smile, and move on with his life. They had all been hoping for that, really. Matt knew that they were moving on, he could feel it every time he saw them. He also knew that they would never truly allow themselves to completely move on with their lives until he did, and he wasn't sure he wanted to just yet.

Matt had never put up a front with Amy. He knew it was pointless to even try—she was always able to see through him anyway, and keeping up with the fake smiles was exhausting. He knew that she alone understood the depth of the pit he had sunk into. She alone knew how far gone he felt that he was.

Amy surprised him by taking his hand firmly. "Everyone can be saved." She nodded towards him. "You told me that once. Don't you remember?"

He swallowed. He did vaguely remember saying those words once, but that was a long time ago.

"You also told me something else," Amy continued when he failed to answer. "You said: every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don't always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don't always spoil the good things or make them unimportant." She gave him a soft smile, and squeezed his hand. "I think, after everything that's happened to you in the past year, you forgot not to let the bad things spoil all of the good."

Matt stared down at his friend for a long moment. "And you think going to talk to a therapist will help me remember?"

They sat in silence for a long moment.

Amy was the one to break it first by tearing her eyes away from him. "I dunno, Matt, it's only a suggestion. You can do what you like."

Matt gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, and pulled her under his arm. "I'm gonna miss you, Pond."

She allowed herself to relax against his side. "Yeah," she said, "I know."

* * *

Matt woke up to a bright beam of sunlight hitting him square in the eyes. He moaned at the discomfort, and drowsily rolled away from the light.

He suppressed another groan when someone threw open his door. "Oh! Matt, I thought you would be at the airport with the Ponds by now."

Matt's eyes popped open wide as he sat straight up. "What?"

Rose set down the sheets she was carrying. "Well, Amy and Rory left about ten minutes ago to catch their flight. I thought you were going with them."

Matt scrambled to his feet, only just noticing the envelope neatly placed on his nightstand.

He snatched it up, his hands clenching around the far edges of the paper. "No," he murmured, and ran for the door.

Jenny jumped when she caught sight of him. "Matt, what are you doing?"

Matt grabbed her by the wrist and ran for the stairs. "We need to get to the airport."

"Why?" She gasped as she tried to keep herself from falling.

He held up the envelope by way of explanation. "When she promised me I would get to say goodbye I didn't think she was going to leave it up to paper. I have to say goodbye, Jen."

Jenny wrenched her hand free, but kept pace with him as he threw himself out of the front door and into the yard. "Okay, okay, but Matt, maybe they didn't want you to follow them. They might not want a scene."

Matt stopped with his hand on the car door and slowly turned to look at his sister. "Might not want a scene? There wouldn't have been a scene if she didn't leave while I was bloody sleeping!" He yanked the door open and slid into the car. "Let's go!"

Jenny hung her head for a moment, but then did as he asked.

Matt spent the entire car ride drumming on something. He started with the dashboard, his fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm against the fluttering beat of his heart. Then, after one too many sidelong glares from Jenny, he started on the armrest of his seat.

"How close are we?" he asked again.

His sister sucked in her cheeks, her irritation with him obvious. "Only a little closer than ten minutes ago when you last asked." She stomped her foot on the gas and swerved around a slow moving lorry at the last possible second. "God, I hope there aren't any coppers around."

"How much closer is closer?" Matt's voice pulled up an octave with his anxiety—he couldn't miss his last moments with the Ponds. He couldn't lose them.

That was an irrational thought, he knew, but he couldn't help but feel as though this was the final time he would see Amy and Rory. Oh, he knew there were ways he could speak with them, and Amy had promised him that they would come back to visit, but despite their assurances, Matt couldn't shake the ominous feeling that had settled in his chest.

Jenny huffed. "Just a few miles. Relax, Matt, their plane doesn't leave for another half hour."

"Right, yeah, no you're right. We'll make it." Matt stilled his hand against the armrest, only to begin drumming against his leg. "We'll make it."

Jenny gave him a sideways glance, but said nothing.

Matt felt his muscles tighten with every second that passed in the remainder of the car ride. His eyes were constantly shifting from the window to the clock on the dashboard. He cursed every time the numbers had changed—he had to make it. He hadn't said a proper goodbye.

He felt his shoulders relax a little when the airport popped up in his line of sight.

"We can make it," Jenny told him, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "There's a lot of traffic, but we can do it."

Matt groaned when he caught sight of the hundreds of shiny cars covering the parking lot, their metallic surfaces glaring up at him under the, for once, bright sunlight.

"Right there!" He all but hit Jenny in the arm when he caught a glimpse of a man pulling out of a parking space.

Jenny quickly drove the car in closer so she could easily pull into the space, when another driver coming from the opposite end of the aisle did the same.

"Oh no you don't. Not today," Jenny growled.

Matt held his breath as the poor driver caught in the middle quickly pulled away from the space. As soon as he was out of the way, Jenny spun her wheel as hard as she could, nearly hitting the other driver in the process.

Matt let out a triumphant laugh when they slid passed the other car. The driver looked beyond furious, but she merely glared at them as she moved on.

The second Jenny's car stopped in the parking space, Matt was out the door. He knew there was no time to lose—the plane was about to begin boarding any moment now, if they hadn't already.

"I'll catch up!" Jenny cried.

He barely gave her a backwards wave. His heart was pounding and he could hear the blood racing at a flat out sprint through his veins. People were whipping their heads around to stare and gawk at the half crazed looking man—still in his pajamas, his face unshaven—barreling through the airport doors.

Matt stopped and spun around wildly. "Which way, which way…?"

"Sir, can I help you?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the airport security guard stopped his manic shuffling. "Yes! I'm looking for the plane about to leave for Manhattan."

The burly man gave him a suspicious look, but pointed out the correct way. "To your left, sir."

"Thanks!" Matt shouted and took off running again.

"But—wait, they're already boarding! Sir!"

He ignored the frantic shouts of the security guard as he sprinted for the gate. "Out of my way!" he roared at a group of tourists. They yelled curses at him as he shoved through their group, but made no attempt to follow him.

Matt's heart started beating even faster when he caught sight of red hair and long legs. "Amelia!" He cried, "Amelia Pond!"

She didn't acknowledge him until he was right behind her, reaching out with one hand to grab her shoulder roughly.

"Oi!" She whirled around and slapped his hand away. "Get off me, yah nutter!"

Matt's face fell as he recoiled back from the stranger. This woman was far too old to be his Pond, and the accent was all wrong.

"Sorry ma'am, my mistake." He quickly spun away from her to scan the crowd.

That's when he saw her. They were separated by glass and security, but she was there. Talking to Rory and gathering up their belongings.

"Amelia!" He shouted, and ran up towards the glass. She couldn't hear him—the woman over the intercom had masked his voice and the glass was too thick. "Amy!" He tapped on the glass loudly. "Amy!"

She still didn't hear him. Everyone was getting up to board the plane and she was too wrapped up in her conversation with Rory to hear Matt's frantic attempts to gain her attention.

"Amy…" his voice died in his throat and he lowered his hand. She had turned away from him now, and was nearly out of sight.

Matt felt a small hand slip around his shoulder, and glanced down to find Jenny standing next to him. Her face held nothing but sympathy. "C'mon Matt, we missed them. Let's go home."

He nodded, and glanced back one more time. The last glimpse he caught of them was Rory glancing over his shoulder, and Amy's red hair getting caught in a gust of wind.

* * *

Matt's whole body felt heavy as he sat on a bench in the middle of Rose's garden. It was at the back of the house and just behind an old toolshed she and David never used anymore. The weak sunlight was just hitting the small space, and the flowers around Matt had turned their faces up towards the slight heat.

He stared down at the envelope in his hands. He still hadn't opened it; he didn't have the courage to see what was inside.

It was silly, really, Matt knew it was. They hadn't died, they'd just moved. Far away, yes, but they weren't gone completely. He could still talk to them when he wanted to—could even visit when the time was right.

So why did he feel like the hole in his chest had been torn open again? Why was the thought of them being across the ocean so hard to accept? Matt didn't know, and he really didn't like not knowing. It made this whole process so much worse.

"Matt?"

He glanced up at the sound of Rose's voice. "Yes?"

She smiled at him softly as she sat down beside him. "What yah got there?"

He sniffed. "Just a little something Amy wrote…"

She nudged his shoulder when he trailed off. "Aren't you gonna read it?"

He shrugged.

"Oh come on, what's the worst that could happen?" Rose jostled him again with her shoulder. "Go on, read it. She must've written it for a reason, yeah?"

Matt smiled down at his mum affectionately and easily tore the envelope open.

She grinned back at him, leaned in to kiss his cheek, and stood to leave.

"I'm gonna make some tea; do you want some?"

"Sure," he said.

Rose stopped at the gate and shot him a sympathetic look. "There's always holidays, Matt."

He nodded, and waited until she was gone to refocus his attention on the letter.

Matt pulled in a deep breath, and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before putting on his glasses.

_Hello, old friend_. It began. _And here we are. You and me, once again on the last page. Please forgive me for not delivering this goodbye in person. I know you haven't been sleeping well, Raggedy Man, and neither Rory nor I wanted to wake you. Besides, who wants a scene?_

Matt smiled to himself, typical Pond.

_It is because of this that by the time you read these words, Rory and I will be long gone. So know that we are happy where we are, and that we love you. Always._

_I wish we could stay for you, my Raggedy Man, I really do. But the two of us need a fresh start—a new life. And we can't find that here. Not when there are too many memories embedded in every place we go. And I do worry about you, Matt. I worry that once we're gone, you will allow these memories to consume you, and you might end up alone. Which you should never be._

_Don't be alone, Doctor._

Matt sucked in a shaky breath, and looked up towards the sky in an attempt to swallow the emotions welling up within him.

He let out his breath slowly, and continued reading.

_And do one more thing for me. Watch out for Jack. Lord knows he needs someone to keep him in check, and now that's all up to you. I love that man, but I swear he attracts trouble._

Matt chuckled lightly.

_I know I told you once that we were not family—that the three of us could never be family. And I believed that, I truly did. But I was wrong, Matt. I'm sorry. I was wrong, and you and Jack both need to know that you have been, and always will be, my family._

_Take care, Matt. _

_Amelia._

Matt looked up from the letter into the eyes of one of the angel statues Rose had scattered around the small garden, and the ghost of a familiar smile grace his lips.

"Love you too, Pond."


	18. Chapter 18: Dangerous

**Huge thank you to Sassywriterchick, for her flattering review.**

**Also, big shout out to my Beta - Melt into the Air - for all her helpful comments on this chapter.**

* * *

**Chapter 17: Dangerous.**

Clara couldn't deny it anymore, she simply couldn't. She had thought, at first, that the little glances meant nothing more than what they were: glances. That the little shot of adrenaline she would get every time she caught sight of him looking back at her was simply her imagination. She had thought for a long time now that the little flutters in her heart every time she allowed herself to stare at him was nothing more than a nervous tick. Something she would eventually get over.

Most of all, however, Clara could no longer ignore the fact that him sleeping in her room was nothing other than friendly.

Clara raised her fly swatter expertly. It was time to kill this spider.

"What was that?" Matt's voice called out when he heard the thump of Clara's hand smacking into the wall.

She cursed when the spider crawled up higher than she could reach. "Nothing!"

She heard rather than saw Matt enter her room. "Clara, what are you doing?"

"Trying to kill this evil creature," she said, and jumped up as she took another swing. "Damn it!" she cried as the spider crawled even higher.

"No, don't do that!" Matt ran forward to swipe the fly swatter away from her. "That's an innocent life!"

Clara raised her eyebrows at him. "It's evil."

"It is not," Matt countered as he picked up a glass of water from her bedside table and downed its contents. "It's a living thing like you and me." He easily reached up and trapped the spider within the glass. "Hand me that paper."

Clara huffed, but did as he asked. "Then what's your genius plan to get rid of my roommate?"

"Plan? Who says I have a plan? I'm simply going to politely carry this little fella downstairs and let him out of our front door."

She gaped at him. "You're not even going to take it outside?"

He looked at her from over his shoulder as he headed for the stairs. "Why would I? It's cold outside."

"Matt!" Clara shrieked, "what if he comes back?"

Matt rolled his eyes. "Then I will rescue you from the scary spider again. Can you get the door for me?"

Clara huffed, and brushed passed him for the door. "If you're going to save it, can't it at least be saved outside?"

"Don't be such a baby," Matt scolded. "Besides, you never know where he'll actually end up. He could decide to crawl his way into Ms. Higgins' apartment." Ms. Higgins was the one and only neighbor that Matt had in his complex. She was an older woman, and the only time Clara had ever seen her was when she came out to check her mail.

Clara crossed her arms defensively, and sighed when her phone started to buzz. "Hold on," she grumbled as she pulled the device out and answered the call without checking the ID. "Yes?"

"Hello? Clara?" Her father's voice sounded surprised that she had answered him. She had been avoiding his calls for over a week now.

"Yeah, Dad, what can I do for you?" Clara turned away from Matt and headed into the lounge.

"Well I was wondering if you could come to dinner tonight to meet those friends of mine I was telling you about." Dave's voice sounded slightly nervous.

She sighed heavily. "Sure, Dad, we'll be there."

"No, Clara," Dave said. "I just want you. This is a family matter."

Clara felt her eyes narrow with suspicion. "Who are these friends of yours?"

"You'll see when you get here."

Her shoulders slumped with defeat. "Alright, I'll be there. What time?"

"Six would be lovely," Dave's voice took on a relieved tone. "I'll text you the address."

"Yeah, okay," Clara muttered. "Bye, Dad."

"Love you, sweetheart."

Clara's phone stayed firmly glued to her ear even after he hung up. He hadn't called her anything other than Clara since long before her mother's accident. What was this game he was playing? Who were these 'friends' he kept talking about?

"Clara?"

She let the phone drop to her lap as Matt joined her in the living room. "Mission accomplished?"

"I doubt you'll be seeing your roommate again for a good long while." He flashed her a wide smile that quickly turned into a look of concern. "Is something wrong?"

She blinked up at him. "What? Oh, no, nothing's wrong. Say, Matt, would you mind taking me over to my father's house tonight? He has these friends he wants me to meet." She waved her hand dismissively.

Matt sat down beside her. "Sure."

"Thanks," Clara said as she bit her lip.

Matt leaned forward to take her hand. "Hey," he whispered as he gently opened her fist to intertwine their fingers. "I'm just a call away. If things get bad, I'll be there in no time."

Clara sent him a weak smile. "Thanks."

He grinned, and nodded towards the study. "Think you'd be up for a quick session?"

"Sure," she said, and allowed him to lead her into the study by the hand he still clutched.

Clara settled herself in her chair as Matt set up his equipment. She wasn't really sure when the piece of furniture had first been officially designated as "hers" and it had never been acknowledged out loud, but Clara didn't really see it as one of those things that needed to be. The chair was where she always sat during their sessions, and that was all there was to it.

"January 10, 2013—11:20 AM," Matt said in that business tone he always slipped into during their interviews. "Ready?"

Clara nodded. "Shoot."

Matt pursed his lips. "Well, last time we were talking a bit about how your family members reacted after you were first diagnosed, but this time I'd like to focus on you. How did you react?"

Clara was quiet for a long time, pursing her lips and biting the inside of her cheek as she searched for an answer. "When I first found out?"

He nodded. "Yes, that first moment when the doctors explained to you what was happening."

"Ah," she said, "well…I was scared, mostly. A little relieved, I think…" She glanced out of his window, and was reminded of a similar street-side view out of the room they had strapped her down in those first few days. "That's a hard question to answer."

Matt caught sight of her expression, and nodded his understanding. "I know," he said, "but anything you could tell me would be helpful."

Clara shifted in her seat, and tried to force her heart to return to a normal pace as she thought back to those first few days in the hospital. "Honestly, I don't remember all that much," she lied. "It was…traumatic. That's probably the most I can give you." She met his eyes then, and quickly slid her gaze down to where his recorder sat.

She didn't for the life of her understand why she didn't just use their safe word. Matt would understand then, he would know not to press her for more information, but she couldn't bring herself to say the word. It was that stubborn streak in her—she hadn't used the word in so long, and she was determined to keep that streak alive.

Matt gnawed at the pen in his hand, and leaned forward so his hands lay clasped together on his desk. "Okay, Clara, let's move on then. Tell me a bit more about your childhood friends."

Clara felt herself visibly relax, and a grateful smile flashed across her face as she launched into stories from a time when reality and fantasy blended together in a much less complicated, dangerous way.

* * *

"This was a horrible, awful idea," Clara said as Matt pulled the car up in front of her father's house. "Are you sure this is the right address?"

Matt nodded. "Yes, Clara, I'm sure."

"Right," she said, and placed a hand on the door handle. "Thanks, I'm sorry I can't invite you in."

Clara jumped when she felt a warm hand slip over the one she had balled up against her leg. "You're going to be fine," Matt said softly. "And I'm only a phone call away if you need me."

She nodded. "Okay."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "Can I get a smile with that?"

Clara couldn't help the wide grin that stretched across her face. She looked down at their hands, and felt a warm tinge bloom along her cheekbones. "Thanks, Matt."

He squeezed her hand gently. "Go get 'em."

She nodded, and turned to pull herself up out of the car.

"Brave heart, Clara, you'll do fine."

Clara nodded, pulled in a deep breath, and headed for the front door. She paused on the front steps of her father's porch, and glanced back at Matt's car one more time.

He shot her his best boyish smile and an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

Clara let out a loud breath through her teeth, and rang the doorbell.

"Oh!" she heard a high pitched voice exclaim from behind the door. "Oh, Dave, that must be your Clara! I'll get it!"

Clara plastered on a friendly smile as the door swung wide open. "Hello?"

A woman with wild red hair and even wilder blue eyes opened the door with a half-crazed looking smile. "Ah! It's you! Dave has told me so much about you!" She reached out and yanked Clara into an awkward hug.

"Oof," was all Clara managed to say in response.

"And is that your lovely boyfriend, Matt?" the strange woman leaned around Clara to wave at Matt, her many golden bangle bracelets jingling along her arm as she did so.

Matt sent her a polite smile and a small wave back.

"Yes that's Matt, but he's not my boyfriend." Clara took a small step away from the stranger. "And I'm sorry, but have we met before?"

"Clara?" her father's voice cried. "Sheryl, why haven't you invited her in yet?"

"Yeah, mum," another voice whined. "It's cold!"

"Oh silly me," the woman—Sheryl—giggled. "Would your friend like to join us? I know your father wanted this to just be family, but I feel so bad about just sending him away."

"Oh, um, I don't know—" Clara started.

"Come on in honey!" Sheryl took a few steps off of the porch while gesturing for Matt to come inside. "I'd love to meet one of Clara's friends!"

Matt glanced at Clara, and got out of the car.

"Sheryl?" Dave called again. "Clara, what's going on out here?"

"Oh, Dave, you were just going to send this nice young man away?" Sheryl scolded as she and Matt came up the steps. She had one arm tucked around Matt's waist, and the other hand on her hip.

"Well…" Dave slid his eyes to Clara nervously. "I thought tonight it would be better if it was just family."

Clara raised her eyebrows at the hidden message in his words, and a heavy weight settled over her heart. The puzzle pieces were starting to fall into place, and she was afraid that she knew what Sheryl represented.

"Mum, Dave? Are they coming in?" that other voice asked again.

"Yeah, Dad," Clara asked as she crossed her arms, "are we?"

Dave waved a hand. "By all means."

"Oh, Clara, sweetie, you just have to meet my daughters—Astrid, Ada? Come meet Clara!" Sheryl grabbed onto Clara's arm and tugged her towards what appeared to be a dining room.

Clara glanced back at her father. "Daughters?" she mouthed.

Dave pursed his lips nervously. "Um, Sheryl—"

He was interrupted by Sheryl once again. "Oh, Dave dear, did you pull off those beans yet? Oh goodness, excuse me everyone!"

Clara stopped in her tracks as Sheryl rushed off to a kitchen that was just off the dining room, and stared at the two girls before her. Both were much taller than her—with blue eyes that very much resembled their mother's.

The girl closest to Clara approached her first. She had her blond curls pulled back into a hairstyle similar to something out of a 1940's magazine and a smile that looked too white to be natural.

"I'm Astrid, it's so lovely to finally meet you," she gushed as she pulled Clara into another awkward hug.

Clara cleared her throat. "Um, and you."

The other girl—Ada—stayed back, but gave Clara a small smile. "My name's Ada, we've heard a good deal about you." She was much more soft-spoken than the other two women of her family, and appeared to be not much older than Clara herself. Her red hair was much more elegant in the way it coiled towards the back of her head, and she held herself up with a rigid confidence.

Clara appreciated not having to hug another stranger, and gave Ada a warm smile. "I wish I could say the same."

Ada's eyes flicked passed her. "Who are you?"

"Oh, sorry, my name's Matt." Matt stepped forward to shake hands with both of the girls. "I'm a friend of Clara's…Ada, if you don't mind my asking, how did you get those?" He touched the sides of his cheeks to explain.

Ada reached up and brushed her fingers along one of the red scars that curved down around the bottoms of her eyes. "Oh, just a little accident from when I was younger. We had a clumsy grandmother." She smiled slightly.

"Dinner's ready!" Sheryl cried from her place in the kitchen.

"I better go see if I can help," Dave muttered, and dashed for the door.

"Um, Dad, would you mind if I spoke to you for a moment?" Clara asked, trying desperately to keep the trembling out of her voice.

Dave gulped, but nodded. "Of course."

Clara followed him out into the living room, and waited until she was positive they were out of Astrid and Ada's earshot to speak.

"Is Sheryl what I think she is?"

Her father sighed, and held his hands out towards Clara limply. "I wanted to tell you sooner, but…Clara, I…"

"Is this what me moving back in with you was about?" Clara tried to control the tone of her voice. She couldn't allow herself to explode all over him. It wasn't as though giving in to an angry outburst was going to help the situation he was putting her in.

Dave let out a long breath. "Only partially."

Clara's eyebrows raised of their own accord. "Only—? Dad, when were you going to tell me if I had agreed? Were you going to wait until after I had moved in?"

"No! No, I was going to tell you before that." Dave placed a hand on Clara's shoulder, and she flinched under his touch. "I meant what I said at Christmas, Clara; I want to make things up to you."

Clara swallowed. "Do they know? About me?"

He let his hand fall back to his side. "Not yet."

She let out an astounded laugh. "So what were you going to do when you had to explain my pills? Or my therapist appointments? Or, God forbid, why your daughter starts talking to people who aren't _there_?"

"Clara, that's the point of this dinner," Dave said gently.

She raised her eyebrows. "So you still think I'm moving in with you?"

Her father shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. "Well, I had hoped you were still considering it."

Clara sighed. "Dad, I'm happy where I am. Matt takes good care of me."

"Dave? Clara?" Sheryl's shrill voice called. "Where did you two run off to?"

"Your girlfriend's calling," Clara said coolly. "We best get back."

"Clara—"

"Ah, there you are!" Sheryl exclaimed cheerily as Clara reentered the dining room with Dave on her heels. "Clara, take a seat right over there."

Clara gave her a tight smile, and slid into the chair next to Matt's.

"Mm, everything smells wonderful, Sheryl," Matt enthused as hot bowls and plates were passed around the table.

Sheryl waved off Matt's compliment with a slight blush. "Oh, you're such a charmer."

Clara kept her eyes firmly on her plate as Matt got caught up into small talk with Sheryl and her daughters about where he went to university and what his future plans were. She was silently praying that no one would ask her these questions. As it was, Clara couldn't afford to go to university, and the idea of being around so many people at once made her somewhat nauseous.

There was a time when large crowds hadn't been a problem for Clara, but ever since her mother's accident she found it harder and harder to manage being around large groups of people. There was too much noise, too many sights and sounds and smells that would easily overload her senses. It was a nightmare. One Clara was only too happy to avoid.

"Clara?"

She jumped when her father's voice broke through her thoughts. "Hm?"

"Sheryl was just asking about your plans for your future." Dave looked nervous. A few drops of sweat were just beginning to bead across his forehead, and his back was stiff.

She blinked, and shrugged. "I haven't really thought about it."

Sheryl let out a high pitched laugh that immediately made Clara's skin prickle. "Oh, I'm sure that's not true. Don't you have something you want to do? Any place you want to go?"

Clara swallowed down a mouthful of water, and shrugged again. "I've always wanted to visit New York. But I don't really see that happening."

"You don't have a career plan?" Astrid asked with shock evident in her voice.

"Not particularly, no," Clara said around another bite of green beans. "I'm happy where I am. I work in a little bookshop down the street from where I live, and it pays well enough."

"That must be lovely," Ada offered.

Clara decided she liked Ada the best, and sent her a wide smile. "It really is. I get to read all of the newest copies of the books we have in stock before we even shelve them. Sometimes my boss even allows me to borrow a copy or two before selling it."

"Well that's nice, dear, but don't you have anything you want to do beyond working in a bookshop? A bright young girl such as you could go far in university," Sheryl prompted, clearly trying to make a point.

Clara felt Matt's hand pat her leg reassuringly, and couldn't help the small smile that graced her lips. "You know Sheryl, maybe I will one day, but like I said: I'm happy where I am."

Dave's girlfriend looked like she wanted to say more, but chose to fill her mouth with water instead.

"Clara, maybe you should explain your hesitancy to attend school again?" Dave prompted, flashing Clara a pointed look.

She flashed him her sweetest smile in return. "Oh I don't know. I think I've done that fairly well Dad, don't you?"

The table fell into a tense silence for a moment.

"Matt, Dave tells us your Clara's…roommate," Astrid said slowly. "But you're not her boyfriend?"

"No, I'm—" Matt glanced at Clara, and she nodded. "I'm her legal caregiver."

That seemed to confuse several of the occupants in the room. "Her what? Why would Clara need a caregiver?" Sheryl cocked her head and narrowed her eyes with suspicion.

Matt shifted uncomfortably. "Well, um, you see…Clara?"

Clara pulled in a breath for courage as all eyes turned to her. "I don't think my father's told you yet, but I was diagnosed with schizophrenia several years ago." She paused, and bit on the inside of her cheek, nervously awaiting their reaction.

Sheryl blinked, and jerked away from the table into a more upright position. "Oh, that's…no, your father didn't mention that."

Both Ada and Astrid seemed at a loss for words as they shrank down into their seats. Clara swallowed down the thick lump that had come up in her throat, and felt Matt's hand slip into her own.

"I assure you, Sheryl, she's perfectly fine." Dave broke the silence by waving a hand towards his daughter. "As long as she takes her meds she's perfectly functional and coherent."

Clara blinked, feeling stung by his words. The small leaf charm around her neck suddenly felt very heavy, and she abruptly had a deep longing for her mother to be here. Ellie would have been appalled by Dave's behavior towards their daughter, Clara was sure of it.

"I was never dangerous," Clara whispered.

"Well." Dave tipped his head side to side and squinted his eyes. "I don't know if I would say that."

"I wasn't really, I was never violent," Clara said firmly. "And I'm certainly not dangerous now. You can ask Matt if you don't believe me."

Matt's eyes shot up from the table with surprise. "Oh yes! I mean, no, she isn't dangerous. I don't think Clara could harm a fly."

The room fell silent again as Sheryl seemed to appraise Clara up and down with critical eyes.

Then tension was finally broken when Ada stirred in her seat. "So, Clara, how did you meet Matt?"

Clara shot her a grateful look, firmly deciding that—besides Matt, of course—Ada was her favorite person in the room.

* * *

"Well, that didn't go too horribly," Matt said as they pulled up to their apartment. "I was expecting far worse from that lot."

"I still can't believe he has a girlfriend," Clara muttered. "I mean, it's been a while. I know that, and I only wish him happiness but…"

"You can't help but compare," Matt finished quietly.

Clara nodded.

He sighed. "That's only natural, Clara. I would do the same."

She echoed his tired sigh, and looked up at the cold light of the streetlamps just outside of the car window. "Did you see the way they looked at me?"

Matt was quiet until Clara turned her head to look at him.

He took her hand. "Clara, there are always going to be people like that. You know that even better than I do. Don't let it get to you."

She let out a grim smile. "That's easier said than done."

Matt's thumb began to slowly rub soothing circles along the back of her hand, and Clara had to force herself not to look down. That fluttery feeling in her heart was back.

"I know," Matt whispered finally, "but you have to try."

Clara's eyes were completely glued to his as the moment lapsed into a peaceful quiet. She saw it again—that little shift of intensity in Matt's eyes that she had glimpsed at before they said goodnight on New Year's. Her heart squeezed and sent a flurry of butterflies through her chest into the pit of her stomach, making every one of her fingers and toes tingle.

"Clara?" Matt murmured.

"Yes?" she asked, and nearly blushed at the breathless sound of her voice.

"What are we doing?" his question came out so quietly that Clara wasn't sure she had heard him correctly at first.

She swallowed. "I don't know," she admitted.

Matt reached up to tuck a strand of her hair back behind her ear, and pursed his lips. "We should go inside."

Clara blinked, and backed away. "Okay," she said lamely, trying to cover the hurt in her tone. She had been so sure he was going to kiss her—did that count as leading her on? Or was Clara just imagining things, mixing up reality with fantasy once again?

They both stepped into the dark apartment without saying a word. The tension still hung in the air, and continued to follow them as Matt headed for the lounge and Clara for the kitchen. The night was still young, and although the dinner with her father and his "friends" had drained her, Clara didn't want to go to bed just yet.

She pulled down a glass from the cabinet, and quickly filled it up with water. She heard Matt turn on the stereo, and pursed her lips when the familiar sound of "Ukulele Heroes" by Ian Whitcomb came on over the speakers.

"Clara?" Matt called.

She swallowed her water, and stepped into the doorway that led off into the lounge. "Yeah?"

Matt shifted awkwardly on his feet. "Um, I think I'm going to bed. Do you need anything?"

"No," she said slowly.

"Right," Matt's voice easily gave away how nervous he was as he turned towards the stairs. "Goodnight then, I guess."

"Matt?"

"Yeah?" Matt spun around quickly to face her, and Clara had to pause for a moment to find the words that were just stuck in her throat.

"What are we doing?" she repeated finally.

Matt was quiet for a long time. The notes of the song started to slow down, and Clara could sense that it was coming to an end as Matt pursed his lips.

"I don't know," he whispered.

Clara stared at him for a long moment, and then slowly crossed the room to stand in front of him. A new song was coming on over the speakers—"Skinny Love," by Birdy.

"You're confusing me," Clara said slowly, drawing out each syllable so she was certain he would hear her. "One minute, I think you want to kiss me, and the next you don't. I don't understand you, Matt Smith."

Matt's breath caught, and he cleared his throat. "I—"

"Are you leading me on?" Clara demanded. "Is it all in my head?"

His eyes widened. "N-no, I would never—" he cut off with a heaving breath, and his shoulders slumped. "I don't know what to do here, Clara. I don't know what the right thing to do here is."

Clara swallowed, and reached out for his hand. Their fingers intertwined automatically, and she looked up at him with a tentative smile. "Does this feel like the right thing to do?"

Matt groaned, and rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. "You are impossible; you know that right?"

She grinned. "That's why you like me."

He swallowed, and looked down at their joined hands. "I'm taking care of you, Clara, what if things went wrong?"

"Who says they would go wrong?" Clara demanded.

Matt shrugged. "It happens sometimes."

Clara bit her lip, and hesitantly reached out with her free hand to cup his cheek. "Hey, let me see those big sad eyes." She waited until he looked up at her. "Everything's a chance, Matt, everything's a risk."

He swallowed. "I know that."

"Then what are you afraid of?" she whispered.

Matt stared at her for a long time. "All of it. Everything. I've been running my whole life, Clara, and I'm not sure what will happen if I stop."

Clara smoothed out the skin of his cheek with her thumb. She didn't ask him what he was running from. She didn't need to—the answer was written all across his face. "Then don't. I'm not asking you to stop. We can run together, if that's what you need."

Matt blinked with what looked like surprise, and his eyes began to search Clara's face. For what, she wasn't sure, but she stayed absolutely still as they traced the contours of her cheeks and ran along the skin of her forehead.

Matt swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he reached up to timidly stroke Clara's cheek with just his fingertips.

Clara couldn't help it; she leaned in to his touch. His fingertips sent the tingling feeling straight back into her fingers and toes, and she let out a soft sigh. Her eyes slipped closed of their own accord, so she felt rather than saw that shift of Matt's eyes as his breath washed over her face.

She didn't dare speak as Matt leaned in so their foreheads were touching. Clara's heartbeat was racing now, thumping so loudly she was sure he could feel it.

She allowed her hand to slide from his cheek to the back of his neck. Her fingers curled around the back of his head, twisting themselves into the thick locks of his hair as she felt her grip on his hand tighten involuntarily.

Matt pulled their hands up so he could kiss her knuckles, and allowed their hands to rest against his heart. "Will you dance with me?"

Clara felt the smile tug on her lips, but she didn't dare open her eyes. "Yes."

He wrapped an arm around her waist, and slowly started to spin them in a slow circle. Clara felt it when he started to hum, and smiled when she recognized the tune. The track that was playing in his stereo had long moved on to a different song, but Matt continued to hum the notes to "Skinny Love" in her ear.

"Bon Iver was the one who originally produced that song, you know," he said suddenly.

Clara smiled at his ridiculousness. "Yes, I did know that."

"I think his version is much happier," Matt continued on as though he hadn't heard her. "It's got a beat that's much easier to dance to."

"You'll have to play it for me sometime," Clara said.

"Maybe I will," Matt muttered as he slowed down their dance until it came to a stop.

Clara's eyes fluttered open when she felt him pull away from her slightly, and her gaze was immediately met with his green eyes.

"You're dangerous, Clara Oswald, very, very dangerous." Matt's voice vibrated against her hand.

"I am?" she whispered, her voice breaking slightly over the words.

He nodded. "A huge risk."

She swallowed, and felt her hand tighten around his reflexively. His heart was beating almost as fast as hers was as finally—finally—he leaned down to softly press his lips against hers.


	19. Chapter 19: Desperate

**Hey everyone! Long time, I know, so sorry about that. It was never my intention to be gone for this long, but life gets busy, and busy days are no good for my inner writer. Anyway! I'm back now, and although I can't promise consistent update days from this point forward, I will do my best. :)**

**HUGE thank you's go out to: Sassywriterchick, ThePurpleFrockCoat (love the new penname by the way), and bgeiner for your lovely reviews. They kept me going when I was ready to give up on this chapter.**

**Another big thank you goes out to my Beta, Melt into the Air, for putting up with my little heart attack over this chapter... Seriously, she's amazing.**

**Okay, that's all from me, enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 18: Desperate.**

Matt had settled himself into a boring, monotonous routine. Against both Jenny and his doctor's recommendations, he had returned to work just shy of the one month mark since he had first sustained his injury. Of course, Jenny still lived with him and drove him everywhere, but at least this way she could get herself back to her job and her life somewhat.

And, of course, he always had Jack around to watch him.

"Hey there, Smithy, are we still on for lunch?" Jack asked as he flashed Matt his best swashbuckling smile.

"Yeah, just gimme one second here," Matt said as he concentrated on the final sentences of his article. "Got it!" he cried, and quickly pressed save.

"Rough draft all done?" Jack asked as Matt stood to grab his coat.

"Yup, Sharon will love it." He grinned and yanked his bag over his shoulder. "Let's go."

The two of them headed out of the building and across the street to one of the many local restaurants in the area.

"Is it just the two of you?" a young waitress asked as she pulled out menus.

Matt rolled his eyes as Jack put on his best smirk. "I count three of us."

She blinked, and let out a nervous laugh when his message dawned on her. "Oh no, I don't think so. Follow me."

Jack's smirk spread into a flirtatious grin as she led the way towards the heart of the restaurant. "Now that's a nice—"

Matt jabbed him in the chest as the waitress turned to look back at them. "Cut it out," he hissed.

Jack's lower lip jutted out into a pout. "You're no fun, Smithy."

Matt rolled his eyes, and smiled apologetically at the waitress as he and Jack settled into their seats.

She smiled back at him kindly. "Alright, my name is Chelsea and I'll be your server today. What can I start you boys off with?"

"We'll have two coffees, thanks," Matt said before Jack could open his mouth.

Chelsea spun around on her heel and headed back towards the kitchen.

Jack shot Matt a peeved look. "I believe I could have handled my own order without your help."

"If I hadn't stopped you we would have been kicked out of the restaurant in under five minutes," Matt shot back. "I did the both of us a favor."

His friend snorted and turned his gaze towards the window. "Oh lighten up, Matt."

Matt crossed his arms. "Why did you want to do this again?"

"Lunch?" Jack shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea. I wanted to check in on you; that's what friends do."

Matt glanced up as he caught sight of Chelsea coming back with their coffees. "Well I'm fine. Honestly, Jenny's taking good care of me."

"Here you boys go," Chelsea said cheerily as she set the mugs before them. "Let me know if you need anything else."

Matt smiled up at her politely. Jack continued to stare at him with an apprehensive look on his face.

Matt sighed wearily. "What is it, Jack?"

His friend gnawed on his lower lip. "It's just…what are you going to do for the anniversary?"

"Which one?" Matt shot back.

Jack shrugged. "The closest one. Your wedding anniversary."

Matt swallowed. "I hadn't thought about it, really. It's not like I have anyone to celebrate with."

"Do me a favor," Jack said as he gave Matt a hard stare. "Don't be alone."

Matt stared back as he felt a small, sardonic smile curve around his lips. "Wouldn't dream of it."

In his mind's eye, he could see her smiling with him.

* * *

"Jenny, are you home?" Matt called out as he dropped his bag into her chair in the study. "Jenny?" He poked his head out into the lounge, and stopped. His eyebrows pulled down with confusion—there were cardboard boxes everywhere.

"Jenny?" he cried, louder this time.

There was a loud thump and scratching sounds that echoed down from the upstairs attic before Jenny's form came bounding down the stairs. "Oh, Matt, I wasn't expecting you for another hour or so."

He waved a hand towards the room in front of him. "What's all this?"

She bit down on her bottom lip nervously. "A project."

"What kind of project?" Matt prompted.

"Well…" She walked passed him and picked up one of the boxes, holding it up at his eyelevel. It was marked with the title "Clara's" in his own handwriting.

Matt shook his head. "No. No—no way. Absolutely not. No, Jenny." He swiped the box out of her hand and started gathering up the others to take them back into the attic.

Jenny huffed. "Matt, don't you think it's time?"

"No," he answered automatically.

"Matt." She took his arm gently. "It's been eight months."

Matt tried to swallow down the lump that had lodged itself in his throat. "I know that."

"It might help," she said in a soft voice.

Matt closed his eyes. He knew what she meant, of course. "No, Jen, I don't think it will."

"Try," Jenny pleaded, "just try, yeah? If it gets too hard we can stop; I promise."

Matt sucked in his cheeks and gave the boxes a good, hard stare for a moment before relenting with a defeated slump of his shoulders. "Fine."

She smiled and handed him a box. "You can start upstairs, yeah?"

"Sure," he grumbled, and trudged up the stairs with the box in hand.

Matt tentatively opened the door to his bedroom and took a step inside. He let the box drop to the floor and stood still. He was rather at a loss as to where he should start. He didn't want to be packing up her things at all. He wasn't ready to let go just yet.

Matt pulled in a breath that shot all the way down into his toes and steeled himself to begin. It was time—he knew it was time. Of course he knew.

He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face at the sound of the doorbell. "I'll get it!" he cried, and ran down the stairs haphazardly.

Jenny was waiting at the bottom of the stairs with her arms crossed. "Don't even think for a second that this is going to get you out of packing."

Matt shot her his most innocent grin. "Why would I think such a thing?" He quickly buzzed the visitor into the complex and opened the door. "Hello, what can I—?" Matt froze when he took in the woman before him. He knew her type, of course. He'd seen plenty of her kind in the early days after Clara's accident. She had the same sharp look about her—the same glint in her eyes and shiny badge on her hip.

The woman gave him a tight lipped smile and held up that badge. "Hello, sir, my name is detective Sarah-Jane Smith and I'm looking for a Mr. Matt Smith?"

Matt's grip on the door tightened. "Am I in some sort of trouble?"

Detective Smith quickly shook her head. "Oh no, nothing like that. I'm actually here to talk to you about your wife's case."

Matt's heart stopped. "Wha—?"

"Matt? Who's at the door?" Jenny pushed passed him roughly. "Oh," she said in a flat tone. "I thought you lot were done with us."

Ms. Smith gave them both an apologetic expression. "I'm afraid we'll need to ask a couple more questions. There were a few inconsistencies that were caught in Mrs. Smith's case file."

Matt swallowed. "What kind of inconsistencies?"

"Well that's what I'm here to find out, if you don't mind…?"

"Oh, yeah, come in." Matt pulled Jenny out of the doorway as he moved aside for the detective.

Jenny shot the woman a venomous glare, but began to lead her off to the living room. "Follow me. Can I get you anything? Tea perhaps?"

"Oh no," the woman said with an overly cheery smile. "I'm fine, thanks."

The three of them settled across from each other on Matt's couches. Matt's shoulders were ridged and his back was ramrod straight. He could feel his heart pounding and the sweat beginning to form on his brow. Hadn't he answered all of their questions? Why couldn't these people just allow him to move on?

"So," he broke the silence first, "what do you need to ask me?"

The detective quickly pulled out a notepad and a pen. "Well, let's start back at the beginning: where were you when you first realized she was missing?"

Matt swallowed. He didn't want to do this. Not again.

"Is this really necessary?" Jenny's voice rose in pitch to match her anger. "Hasn't my brother been through enough? Do you lot really need to put him through this all over again?"

"Jenny," Matt's voice was barely a whisper, "its fine."

"No, she's right." Ms. Smith held up a hand. "I can come at another time, if that would be better for you. However, I must warn you that if I am to get this case reopened then—"

"Why would the case need to be reopened?" Matt demanded.

"Well…" he could see that the detective was hesitant to answer. She sighed. "Sir, it's quite possible that your wife did not actually commit suicide."

Matt blinked. "What?"

* * *

_"I thought up my word."_

The words were playing over and over in his head as he stared at the tape on his desk. His cassette was open, and the stereo's volume was turned up. The only thing breaking the silence he was stuck in was the soft crackle of the speakers. And at the moment, Matt was sure it was the only thing that was keeping him from going completely mad.

The temptation was there—a red-hot burning in his fingers, urging him to give in, but something was still holding him back. It was her last message to him; after all, the last time he would ever hear her voice. Once he listened to this there would be no going back. She would really be dead—it would all be real. Matt would have to accept that he would never wake up from the long nightmare.

Was he ready for that?

_"I love you,"_ she whispered.

Was it just him, or was her voice getting harder to remember? The exact cadence and timbre to her words was starting to leave him, replaced by the same empty feeling she had left everywhere else.

This was his last tie to her. He needed to remember.

"Matt!"

Matt sighed, and pulled his hand away from the tape so he could give Jenny his full attention. "Yeah, Jen?"

His sister swiftly entered the room to hand him the phone. "It's that detective; she says something's come up."

Matt huffed angrily, but took the phone. "What?"

"Well hello to you too; listen, I found something down here at the station. I have a potential suspect who was seen going into your home the day Clara was murdered."

Matt head shot up. "What? Who?"

"Well, we found CCTV of the suspect mentioned and ran her face through several facial recognition software's—"

"It's a woman?"

The detective scoffed. "Yes. Anyway, the only name that we could find was an alias: River Song."

Matt's heart stopped.

"What is she saying?" Jenny asked.

"Mr. Smith?"

"Are…" Matt found he was having a hard time keeping ahold of his thoughts. "Are you absolutely certain?"

"Yes sir, we've cross checked to make sure…" the detective trailed off. "Do you know her?"

"Yes." He could barely get the word out. How could _River Song_—Melody, be involved in all of this?

"Who is she?" Ms. Smith asked. "Please, I need to know so I can help with this case. Whoever she is, she was probably the last person to see Clara alive."

Matt sucked in a sharp breath; he could feel the tears pricking at his eyes.

"Matt?" Jenny asked with concern on her face.

"She was an old…friend of mine. A long time ago," he answered finally.

"Like an ex?"

He hated how detached the detective sounded, how cold her voice made him feel. "Yes an ex…but she never knew Clara. They never met; I hadn't spoken with River for years at that time, they—"

"At that time?" the detective interrupted him. "Have you been in contact with this woman since Clara's death?"

"Briefly," Matt answered in a hushed voice.

"Could it be possible that this River—"

"Melody." The name felt strange in Matt's mouth. "Her real name was Melody."

"Could it be possible that this _Melody_ orchestrated this whole plan to get you back? Could she have heard you were married and killed Clara in a jealous rage?"

He felt a cold dread seeping out through his veins. Could it be possible? He knew she was devious, but could River do something like that? To him?

He was certain she would.

"No," Matt answered after a lengthy pause. "No, I don't…I mean, I don't think so." He let his forehead fall into his free hand. He didn't know anymore. Everything he thought he knew was getting turned upside down with this one phone call, and Matt wasn't sure he was going to survive it.

"Okay," Ms. Smith's voice took on a soothing tone, "okay, don't worry. I'll start looking for her so we can bring her in for questioning. I'll call you if there's an update, okay?"

Matt nodded, and then remembered she couldn't see him. "Okay."

"Okay, and Mr. Smith? Please do call me immediately if you see this woman again or if you remember anything that might be useful. Even if it seems insignificant." Her voice had taken on a more compassionate tone, but Matt still couldn't help flinching against her words.

"Okay," he said again.

The detective hung up the phone, and he let it roll across his desk.

Jenny came to lay a hand on his arm. "What did she say?"

Matt glanced up at his sister, and took her hand. "Apparently, _River_ came to see Clara here the day she died."

Jenny gasped. "What?"

"The police are going to track her down and bring her in for questioning," his voice was robotic. Matt knew if he allowed himself to spiral into the chaos that was brewing within him there would be no coming back. "The uh, the detective is going to call me when she has news."

"What do we do until then?"

He glanced up again, and took her hand. "I don't have a clue."

* * *

Jack stopped the car and turned his eyes over to Matt. "Are you absolutely certain you want to do this now?"

Matt stared through the windshield, and nodded. "Jenny and I started packing her things away yesterday…I need this."

His friend nodded silently, and handed him her flowers. "Tell her 'hi' for me, yeah?"

Matt's lips twitched into a smile. "Sure." He got a solid grip on the flowers and stepped out of the car.

It was foggy and cold and the grass felt more than a little squishy under his feet as he crossed the cemetery. It was still early in the morning, and the sun was only just starting to peak over the horizon. Far away, Matt could hear the sounds of early morning London traffic, but he was so lost in his own narrow focus on her grave that everything else only barely registered.

He stopped in front of her headstone, and took a deep breath.

"Hi," he whispered.

The stone stared coldly back at him.

Matt shifted awkwardly on his feet. "So…I brought you these." He thrust the flowers forward and bit down onto his bottom lip. He felt silly. "I know they're your favorite, and, well, it's Valentine's Day. I had to get you something, right? Even where you are, you'd kill me if I didn't."

He chuckled a bit at his own lame joke, but quickly fell back into silence.

"Why were you meeting with River Song that day?" he demanded suddenly. "How long were you in contact with her before that? I told you about her, didn't I? Didn't I? I don't…I don't remember." Matt sighed heavily, and rubbed a hand over his face. "There are a lot of things I don't remember these days." He swallowed. "Like your laugh. I was trying to remember the exact way you used to laugh the other day, and I couldn't. I can remember the way your face would light up, but I can't remember your laugh…why do you think that is?"

He stared at the curvy letters of her name for a moment, waiting for answers that wouldn't come.

"Why did you go with her, Clara?" he whispered. "Why didn't you wait for me to get home? We could've met for lunch, like we planned. I had something I wanted to give you that day. Do you remember that Beatles album we were searching for? I found it. I had the album wrapped up all special and everything, and then you—" his breath hitched.

Matt laughed at the wetness he felt dripping down his cheek. "Oh, look at me, Clara. Look at what I've become without you—a silly, hopeless man. I never expected anything else, really. I mean…" He cut himself off and wiped his eyes. "I miss you."

Matt waited to hear her reply, but all that he received was the biting cold of the morning air. She wasn't here with him. Her body may have been buried beneath his feet, but her spirit—the thing that had kept him going for so long—was absent. Gone from this world. Out among the stars, without him.

_He smiled as she turned to look at him with a new kind of warmth in her eyes. "I think you'll see stars someday yet, Clara Oswald."_

_She gave him that smile, the one that never failed to make his heart skip a beat. "Only if you're with me. I could never travel alone. I'd need a hand to hold."_

His breathing hitched again, and he sniffled. "You're my impossible girl, Clara, my Clara. Please, Clara, just this once…just for me…"

Matt stopped himself again, and glanced back at Jack's car. "I have to get to work," he murmured.

The stone refused to answer him as he knelt down to set her flowers against her name. White roses, her favorites.

"I love you," he whispered, "and I always will. My Clara…we'll travel the stars together someday." He smiled softly. "We'll see wonders, you and me. We'll go anywhere—we won't ever have to stop running."

Again, he was met with silence.

Matt swallowed down the lump in his throat, but managed to lay a hand on the top of her headstone.

He closed his eyes. "Happy Valentine's Day, Clara."

He turned away from her grave and marched back to Jack's car as quickly as he could manage.

Jack gave him a smile as he slid back into his seat. "Ready?"

Matt glanced back at her headstone, half hoping to see her sitting there watching him. Ready to tell him it had all been a mistake.

His heart sank when his eyes were met with the same grey scene as before.

"Sure," he said tonelessly, "let's go."

That workday seemed to drag on forever, with each second bringing another round of torture in on Matt's heart. The whole day he watched his coworkers receiving gifts from their significant others and trading kisses in the halls of his workplace whenever they thought no one was looking. It all left a lump in his throat and a sour taste in his mouth, and he ended up leaving fifteen minutes early with the final draft of his latest article left undone. It was sloppy, really, and he was sure he would pay for his decision later, but he couldn't take it anymore. He didn't want to watch the happy couples skip off to their romantic evenings. Not when the one he wanted to spend the holiday with would never be able to enjoy it with him ever again.

"Oh, Matt, are you heading out?"

"Hm?" He spun around on one heel; it was his boss, Sharon, calling him.

She gave him a hesitant smile. "Would you mind if we spoke privately in my office for a moment?"

Matt sighed inwardly, but gave her a polite smile. "Not at all." He followed her into her office and waited as she closed the door. "What can I do for you?"

She looked slightly nervous as she waved him towards a seat. "Sit down, Matt."

He blinked with confusion, but did as he was told. "Is something wrong?"

"No, not at all, it's just…you know how talented I think you are, right?"

Matt's heart sank; he knew immediately where this was going. "Sharon, if you're going to fire me then don't sugarcoat it."

She sighed. "They're giving us all budget cuts. I had to pick someone, and, well…it's not like you've been in work a lot lately." She swallowed nervously. "I'm sorry, Matt, I really am. I tried to convince them, I tried to explain your situation, but it's been eight months and I—"

He smiled through the tension he could feel in his upper body, and waved a shaky hand. "No, I understand. Don't worry about it; you do what you have to, right? I can't be angry with you for doing your job."

His former boss sighed. "I wish I didn't, you're one of my best writers." She stood and extended a hand towards him. "If you ever need a recommendation on your resume, please don't hesitate to contact me."

Matt took her hand and nodded his head. "Thank you."

He wasn't sure how he made it back to his office, didn't really notice when he started putting his few measly possessions from his time with the newspaper into a little cardboard box. His body felt robotic and his mind was elsewhere. Far away from this place and the problem at hand.

Matt barely registered the people who were coming up to wish him luck or express condolences as he walked out of the building. Jack had already gone home, and Jenny was waiting for him in her car outside.

His sister smiled at him with her widest megawatt grin as he entered the car. "How was—?" she faltered when she saw what he was carrying. "What happened?"

"Budget cuts," Matt answered automatically. "Had to choose someone."

"What?" Jenny shrieked. "And they picked you?"

He shrugged. "It would appear so."

"But you're one of their best writers!" She exclaimed.

Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can we just go home please?"

"I should have a talk with this boss of yours," Jenny growled, and started to exit the car.

"No." Matt quickly reached out and grabbed her by the arm. "No, let's just go. It's done now. I want to leave on good terms."

His sister sat staring at him for a moment, before giving in with a huff. "Fine, okay, we'll go. But this newspaper just lost a customer."

Matt rolled his eyes, but granted her a small smile. "Make that two."

* * *

It's when he's in the middle of packing her things that he finds the journal. It came toppling out of their closet in a place he would never think to look, and as it fell it nearly hit him squarely between the eyes.

Matt watches it fall open to the floor, and stays still for a long time afterwards before he finds the courage to pick it up. His fingers are trembling slightly—should he read it? Would she want him to read it?

He sat down on the bed and stares at it for a bit longer. The leather cover is soft under his fingers, and it's just so tempting to open it. It's that connection he's been longing for, that little bit of her he was just so desperate to remember.

Matt knows full well that it's wrong of him to open to the first page. Knows it, but can't help himself. She wouldn't want him to forget. She would want him to read this.

It took him a minute or two to convince himself of that, but he finally looked down.

_I don't know who I am. It's like I'm breaking into a million pieces and there's only one thing I remember. I love my Doctor; he's the one who saves me. And I'm the one who saves him._

He closed his eyes for a moment. Should he read this?

Matt forces himself to reopen his eyes; it was too late now to go back.

_Sometimes I think I'm everywhere at once. Like my mind has been scattered into a thousand tiny pieces, and I'm on a constant mission to find each and every piece. But I never do, there's always that one shard left missing—that one part of the puzzle that refuses to be found no matter how hard I look. It's just the way I was born—maybe if my brain worked correctly I'd be able to find that missing piece._

_Sometimes I think they're right, sometimes I believe that I'm dangerous, unstable, someone who needs to be locked away._

_But that's where Matt comes in. That's when, at my darkest, he takes on the demons I can't handle and saves me. Rescues me from the monster that is myself. I wish I could be that brave. I wish I could make all these voices go away. Maybe then I could be as wonderful as Matt is convinced that I am._

_I will keep fighting, for Matt._

_After all, one may face a world of demons for the sake of an angel._

Matt closed the journal and ran his thumb along its spine. His fingers curled around its edges and he shut his eyes.

"Matt?"

He quickly blinked and stood to resume packing. "Yeah?"

He heard Jenny's footsteps come down the hallway and stop in front of his door. "May I come in?"

"Sure."

His sister slowly opened the door. "How's it going in here? I finished with the downstairs."

He shrugged and swept an arm towards the few boxes he'd already managed to fill. "Alright, I guess."

She glanced around the room, and stepped towards the dresser. "What's this?"

Matt glanced over to see what she was talking about. "Her music box. It was a…wedding present, from me."

Jenny picked up a couple shards from the dresser. "It's broken."

"Yes it is," Matt said quietly, and refocused on the clothing he was folding.

She looked over at him. "How did this happen?"

"Jack," he said in a clipped tone. He knew he wasn't being fair, Jenny didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of the anger he still held within him over the broken object. It was just a thing, why did it matter so much?

He sighed heavily; he knew the answer to that.

"Have you ever tried to repair it?" Jenny's voice was soft.

Matt shrugged. "Haven't really had the time."

She raised her eyebrows at him, but didn't say anything to point out his lie. "Well, are you going to pack it up with everything else?"

He shrugged again. "I don't know yet, maybe."

"Matt," she said with an exasperated sigh, "don't be like this."

"Like what?" He demanded sharply.

"Self-pitying. Yeah, I know it hurts, believe me. I loved her too, but you can't be so—so—"

"So, what?" Matt raised his eyebrows. "Angry? Sad? What should I be then, Jenny, okay? Well I'm bloody well not okay."

She crossed her arms. "That doesn't grant you the right to treat people—people who have gone out of their way to help you, might I add—like the dust under your feet! That doesn't mean you can just give up on ever feeling happy again."

Anger lit a fire in Matt's chest. "Who says I haven't been trying?"

Jenny let out a hard laugh. "Maybe a few months ago you were, but not anymore. I'm not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the line you stopped trying. You want to know why you were fired? You didn't _try_—I watched you. You left every article down to the last minute, you only showed up to work when you felt like going and you left whenever you pleased." She allowed her hands to smack against her thighs, and Matt flinched against the sound. "Honestly, Matt, what did you expect to happen? Did you think Sharon was going to keep you on with a work ethic like that? I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did."

Matt's upper lip curled back with the hurt and the anger he could feel stinging within him. She was right, he knew that, but he wasn't about to admit it.

"Well what do you want from me, Jenny? What am I supposed to do? Because I'm not just going to be alright, I can't just be happy and pretend that she isn't—" he choked off. "What am I supposed to do?" He was pleading now.

Jenny stared at him for a long time.

"What am I supposed to do, Jen?" he whispered.

His sister finally broke her stiff stance to take a few cautious steps towards him. She held out a hand, and waited to speak until he had taken it.

"I want you to go talk to someone," she murmured. "Because you're not handling this by yourself, and I don't know what else to do for you, John. I really don't."

He swallowed. "Who?"

She pulled in a slow breath. "We'll look into it. Together, yeah?"

He was silent for a long time. "Okay," he said finally, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

Jenny gave him a slight smile. "C'mon then, Johnny boy, what's say you and I finish this up?"

Matt's lips twitched only slightly at the sound of her nickname for him. "Yeah, alright."

Neither of them noticed that the journal was still laying on his bed until long after they were finished packing.

"Huh, I wonder how we managed to forget that," Jenny commented as she was heading off to bed.

"I don't know," Matt said softly, and carefully set it aside before he started preparing for bed.


	20. Chapter 20: Trust

**Hello! Bit of a wait, but at least this one came together much quicker than the last one, right? Anyway, thank you to all my loyal readers. Special thank you's go out to: guest, ThePurpleFrockCoat, bgeiner, The Final Shadow, and Sassywriterchick for your ever wonderful reviews. :)**

**This chapter turned out to be a bit of a filler, but don't be fooled - everything is important at this point!**

* * *

Chapter 19: Trust.

"Have you been writing in your journal?"

Clara forced herself to refocus on Dr. Jones. "Hm?"

"Your journal," the kind therapist repeated. "Have you been writing in it?"

"Oh." Clara shrugged. "Here and there; usually it feels redundant to write about things I've already talked about."

Dr. Jones leaned back into her chair. "So why don't you write about something you don't talk about?"

"Like what?"

She pursed her lips. "Like…maybe something you don't want Matt or me to know. Everyone has secrets, Clara, I'm sure you have a few you could write about."

Clara snorted. "I'm pretty much an open book these days. It's not like I _can _hide much of anything."

Dr. Jones tipped her head. "What do you mean by that? I'm not sure I understand."

Clara stared at her for a moment, and then shook her head dismissively. "Never mind, it doesn't really matter."

"Of course it matters, Clara."

She stared at the therapist for a moment, before giving in with a puff. "I just mean that my symptoms sometimes cause me to say things I would normally keep to myself."

Dr. Jones leaned forward. "Such as?"

She shrugged. "I dunno; just little things. Dad used to say I needed a filter attached to my mouth to prevent some of the silly thoughts that were in my brain from escaping."

"Did it hurt when he would say that to you?"

Clara stared at her for a moment. "Maybe a little bit."

"Did you ever tell him that?" The therapist's tone had taken on a quality that was probably meant to sound sympathetic, but to Clara it only sounded patronizing.

Clara's muscles tensed, and she stiffly leaned into the back of the chair. "No."

Clara knew Dr. Jones saw the change in her body language, but she couldn't bring herself to feel guilty over the little flash of disappointment in the therapist's eyes. She was done talking about this now. Talking about things brought memories to the surface—memories that Clara would rather not revisit. She was doing so well without them.

"Okay," Ms. Jones changed tactics quickly. "Well maybe that's something you could put into your journal."

Clara relaxed a little bit as Ms. Jones looked down to shuffle a bit of paperwork off of her desk. "I noticed that you haven't been in to refill your medication in a while," she commented without looking at Clara.

"That wasn't intentional; I just haven't had much time to come in."

Clara was telling the truth this time. She would never intentionally stop taking her medication, but lately she'd had a little trouble remembering things like prescription dates. It felt like she had a permanent fog wrapped up around her head, something she suspected was a side effect of the new medication Dr. Jones had given her recently. It was for sleeping, after all.

"Alright, well, just come in soon okay? Or I'll have to call in to Matt, and I know you wouldn't want that."

Clara snorted, and gave the therapist a small, mirthless smile. "No, I wouldn't." She knew what Dr. Jones had said wasn't meant as a threat, but she couldn't help but feel cornered by her statement. It took her back to a time where no one believed she could care for herself. Not that she could, then, but this was different. She was much better now.

Clara shook herself to escape those thoughts. That trail was a dangerous one for her to follow, she knew that. That kind of thinking led to bad places.

"Now," Dr. Jones' voice cut through her flashback of restraints and sterile walls. She leaned towards Clara with her hands folded again. "How are you and Matt?"

* * *

Silence was the predominant sound that had been heard throughout the flat for the last week.

Clara had thought everything had gone well. After they had kissed for the first time they'd spent the rest of the night dancing to their favorite classics and giggling in between more stolen kisses. Finally, when the both of them were far too tired to keep their eyes open, they'd curled up together in Clara's bed.

Clara had gone to sleep with a smile on her face, and woken up to empty space beside her.

At least he'd had the decency to leave a note.

_Clara,_

_Had to go in to work early this morning for an interview. See you later._

_-Matt_

She had always been one who tried not to read too much into things, but she couldn't help but see the message he was trying to send her. It hurt; Clara had really thought she's gotten the signals read correctly. Maybe she was right the first time, maybe it had all been in her head.

Ever since that morning the two of them had avoided each other as much as possible. Matt spent most of his time at work anyway, and even when their paths did cross he was always in a rush out the door.

Clara took a deep breath before entering the kitchen. He was sitting there drinking his coffee and reading over his notes for his latest article.

"Morning," she said brightly.

"Morning," he answered without looking up.

Clara swallowed back the stab of hurt she felt pierce her gut, and headed over to get her pills. She abruptly stopped, and spun around. "Do you want me to leave?"

Matt's eyes shot up to hers with surprise. "No, why would you say that?"

"Seriously?" She demanded. "Ever since we…ever since we kissed you've been ignoring me. I feel like a one night stand. I thought we were getting somewhere, but did I get things muddled again? If I did I'd rather you just tell me, don't ignore me with the hope that I'll forget, because I won't."

Matt blinked. "I've been ignoring you?"

Clara's mouth fell open with surprise. "Oh my god, you really have to ask that?"

He shook his head. "No, sorry, _sorry_, I just…" He sighed heavily and scrubbed at his eyes. "I'm sorry." His hand smacked down against the table. "I just…I needed some time to think."

"Then why didn't you say so?" Clara demanded. "Why did you just…run away from me?"

"Because that's what I do, Clara, I run away from things," Matt's tone had taken on an edge to it that sent shivers down Clara's spine. "I run away from things that scare me, and it hurts people, and I can't do that to you."

"You're hurting me right now," Clara pointed out.

Matt let out a weary gust of breath and hung his head. "I know, but if we do this, then it'll be worse. A lot worse, and I can't hurt you like that."

She narrowed her eyes. "Who says you'd run away from me?"

He stared at her for a moment. "No one, I don't know, I just—" he broke off. "I just know I can't do that to you."

"Matt, I know what I'm signing up for."

"You say that, but you really don't know. I run from everything, Clara," he repeated in a defeated tone, "I can't run from you, too. I can't lose you like that."

The two of them were quiet for a long time.

Clara hesitated for another moment, before she stepped closer to take his hand. "Hey," she murmured, "who says we wouldn't be running together?"

Matt allowed a small smile to break out on his face. "You're impossible."

"And you're an idiot. We all have our faults." She gave him a tentative smile. "What'd yah say we give this a try, ay? C'mon, Chinboy, you and me. All of the little mundane adventures that get thrown at us…we could do anything."

He looked down at their joined hands, and brought his eyes back up to search hers.

"C'mon Doctor," Clara whispered. "Show me something awesome."

Matt's lips stretched into a wry smile as he reached up to cup her cheek.

Clara wasn't sure who leaned forward first, but the kiss itself was tentative. Hesitant, as though neither of them were really sure the other was going to accept them. And just as it was really starting to begin, it ended.

Matt's smile widened slightly as they broke apart. "I'm sorry I was such an arse."

"You should be," she told him plainly.

He chuckled, and stood up before taking her other hand. "What do you say we do something fun tonight? I'll make the plan if you agree to come."

She raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Smith, are you asking me out on a proper _date_?"

Matt slid his arms around her waist. "I might be."

"Isn't that what ordinary people do?"

He laughed at her. "Oi, there's something to be said for ordinary. Will you come?"

Clara slowly leaned up onto her tiptoes to give him a short peck on the lips. She grinned. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Relief fell over Matt's features as he lifted her up and spun her around. Clara squealed, and heard him chuckling against her ear until after he'd set her down.

Matt abruptly blushed. "So…good. I'll see you tonight then."

Clara had to bite down the little giggle she felt bubbling up in her throat over his sudden nervousness. "See ya."

He stood there for another moment to stare at her.

She raised her eyebrows. "Aren't you going to be late?"

"Right, yes…" he broke away to rush towards the door, only to turn right back around. "Keys! Gotta have keys, Clara, keys are important—ah!" He snatched his keys off of the kitchen counter and spun out of the door to face her. "See you tonight!"

"Bye, Doctor," she called back.

* * *

To say that Clara was surprised to find Amy in the backroom of Akhaten's Book Shop would be an understatement.

"Gah," Clara exclaimed as she turned to find the redhead directly behind her. "Amy, I didn't think it was possible for you to sneak up on someone. Hasn't anyone ever told you _not_ to do that?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "Oh don't be so jumpy. I'm here about your date."

Clara gave her a wary look. "What about it?"

Amy smiled and grabbed her arm. "We've got to get you ready! Don't worry about your shift; I talked it over with your boss already, let's go!"

"Go where?" Clara demanded as she was forcibly dragged out to the front of the store. "Does Matt know you're here?"

The mad ginger spun on her heel and held a finger to her lips. "Nope, and that's going to stay our little secret. He told Jack and I all about his plans for you this evening, and Jack and I made a mutual decision to help you two—because let's face it, you two need all the help you can get."

Clara let out a short, indignant laugh. "Thanks, because that helps oh-so-much."

"No, ugh." Amy rolled her eyes. "I didn't mean it like that, now c'mon!"

Clara flicked her eyes between the hand Amy still had on her arm and the redhead's impatient expression. "Letting go of me might help."

"Right." Amy dropped her arm. "Let's go."

Clara rolled her eyes as her friend burst out of the shop in the exact same way she had plowed in, and followed her with quick steps.

"Have a good time, Clara!" Craig called.

She shot him a smile over her shoulder. "Thanks!"

"Hurry up!" Amy barked as she rolled down her passenger's side window. "He's picking you up soon—we have a lot of work to do and no time."

"Oi, I'm not _that_ hideous."

Amy waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah tell me about it later. Say, when was the last time you got a makeover?"

"Um…" Clara bit her lip. "Probably the last birthday I had with my mum."

Her fiery Scottish friend shot her a devious smile. "Well then, this should be fun."

* * *

"Clara?"

"Matt and I are fine," Clara answered quickly. "Better than ever."

"You don't sound very confident," Ms. Jones' voice held a note of concern. Clara knew it was a trap, of course, a way to lull her into a feeling of security. She'd fallen for it many times before.

She shrugged. "He hasn't exactly been speaking to me for the last few days."

Dr. Jones cocked her head. "Why not?"

Clara sighed. "Because I did something silly…I'm sure it'll pass."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"No."

Clara didn't miss the flash of frustration across Dr. Jones' face as she leaned back in her chair. "Clara, I think this is a good time to remind you that this is a safe place." She waved her arms around the room. "You can talk here and no one is going to judge you, certainly not me."

"I know that," Clara said. Her fingers curled into the hem of her shirt and twisted the fabric. She'd never realized how hard trusting was until after her mother's accident. She bit her lip. "I don't know if I can talk about it."

"Why not?" Her therapist sounded concerned now. "Did Matt say you couldn't?"

"No, no, nothing like that." Clara was quick to dispel any worry about the way Matt was treating her. It was she who had screwed everything up. "I just…I'm afraid."

"Of?" Clara could see the rising concern on her therapist's face. So much for preventing her from worrying.

"Matt's great," Clara said in what she hoped was a convincing tone. "It's not him I'm afraid of."

Worry turned into confusion as Dr. Jones rested her elbows on her desk. "I don't think I understand."

"I, um…" Clara fidgeted in her seat. "I kissed him."

Realization dawned on Dr. Jones' face. "Oh."

Clara pulled in an unsteady breath. "Yeah," she said quietly.

"And he rejected you?"

"Not initially," Clara's voice got smaller as she continued to speak, "but since that night he's refused to talk to me."

"Clara, I hate to ask this, but did you two engage in any—?"

"No," Clara said quickly and shook her head. "We kissed, that was all."

Dr. Jones was quiet for a moment. Clara shifted uncomfortably under her gaze until the therapist stood to sit in the chair next to her.

She sighed heavily. "Well, the first question I have to ask you, is do you still want to stay with him?"

Clara gnawed on her lip. "I do…but I'm afraid he won't want me to."

* * *

Clara rolled her eyes when Amy held up a pair of six-inch red heels she wanted her to try on.

"C'mon!" Amy cried. "They're _gorgeous_. If you don't want them, I'll take them."

"Take them," Clara said, and turned back towards the racks of dresses Amy was making her look through. Despite her protests, Amy insisted on paying for everything and demanded that Clara look through the hundreds of outrageously priced items for something she liked.

Clara squeaked when someone bumped her into the dress rack, causing several hangers to topple to the floor.

"Oh, sorry, excuse me," a smooth voice said as a hand shot out to steady Clara. "I can be such a klutz."

Clara turned to face a woman who was much taller than she was, with wild curly blond hair and startling blue eyes.

"Oh, no worries," Clara's voice came out much breathier than she intended for it to be.

The woman glanced around her. "I think that color would look nice on you."

Clara glanced back at the dark blue dress that had landed itself in her hand. "Thanks," she said.

The woman held out her hand. "Where are my manners today?" She laughed carelessly. "I'm sorry, my name's Melody."

Clara hesitantly reached out to take her hand. "Clara."

Melody's smile was broad. "Nice to meet you, Clara."

"Clara!" Amy's voice rose above the sounds of the other customer's in the small boutique.

Clara blushed. "Um, I think I should go, it was nice to meet you."

She noticed Melody's smile soften ever so slightly as she stepped aside. "And you."

Clara could feel the woman's eyes on her back as she rushed over to an impatient Amy. She couldn't place her finger on why she felt so uneasy around the odd stranger, but something about her left Clara with a cold feeling in her stomach.

Amy let out an appreciative sound when she saw Clara's choice of dress. "Are you going to try it on?"

Clara blinked. "Hm? Oh, I suppose so."

"Go on then." Amy urged her on towards the dressing rooms.

Clara didn't know how she endured the rest of Amy's makeover treatment. It wasn't that the makeover itself was unpleasant; it was rather the fact that she was forced to allow strangers to touch her. Clara had difficulty passing by people on the street without suspecting them of something, let alone those she knew well. Her medication helped of course, but having a stranger's hands on her even for something as unthreatening as a haircut was a challenge. Having three people working on her at once was nearly unbearable.

"So I was thinking you could just take a little trim off of her bangs here, maybe add a few layers back here, I think that would look lovely on her." Amy's voice was excited, her fingers gently moving through Clara's hair to show the stylist what she was envisioning.

"Oh yes, I can see that, that would be too cute!"

"Your skin is so pretty," another stylist said to her as she buffed her nails. "What do you use?"

"Hun, did you want a dye today?"

They were all like bees swarming around her, growing louder and louder with each question. Whenever Clara tried to focus on one, something else would pull at her attention. She tried to narrow her attention to one person and block everything else out, but it was too late. Once she'd let them all in they refused to go away. She could hear them all now, laughing, yelling, begging her to focus on them.

Clara wanted Matt to be here more than anything; he would know what to do. He would get them all to shut up.

Finally, she threw her hands up and all but jumped out of her chair. "Stop! Stop, stop, stop!" She backed as far away from them as she could get and held up her hands. "Can you all just be quiet for a moment, please?" She tried to slow her breathing, but couldn't stop herself from tilting over the edge towards full panic attack mode. Her heart was beating out of her chest and the room was spinning around her. She squeezed her eyes shut and sank down against the cabinet behind her, trying to take deep breaths to keep herself from passing out.

"What's wrong with her?" One of the stylists asked, and although it wasn't meant to, the question stung Clara. It was the one question she had nightmares about, the one she never wanted to hear asked out loud.

"She just has anxiety attacks sometimes," Amy said, and Clara was grateful that she didn't tell them the whole truth. She didn't want any of them to look at her as though she was something that should be considered dangerous.

To her relief, Amy's team fell silent.

Clara heard someone try to approach her. "I'm sorry, Clara; I didn't think…" Amy trailed off. "I'm sorry; we didn't mean to overwhelm you. Matt told me you have trouble with strangers around you, I'm sorry, I got carried away."

She shook her head. "Its fine, Amy, it's—" she scrambled away when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Don't touch me," she hissed.

Clara opened her eyes to find Amy's shocked face not a foot away from her. "I—I'm sorry, Clara." Shock turned into hurt. "What can I do?"

Clara glanced at the hair and makeup team that was standing as far away as they could. They each wore expressions at varying degrees of uncomfortableness.

"Can I just go into a quiet room for a moment?" Clara asked. Her heart was starting to slow by now, and her breathing had mellowed out into short gasps that were quickly turning back to her regular pattern, but her hands were still shaking. "And can you call Matt?"

Amy nodded and reached out for her. "Yeah, yeah I can do that."

"We have a private massage room you can use," one of the stylists offered. "It's the last door on the right."

Clara nodded, and headed the way she was pointing.

"Hey Matt, can you get down to Sally's right now? Clara needs you."

"Sweetie, can I get you a glass of water or anything?" the man who was supposed to be working on her hair asked.

She nodded. "Please."

He smiled at her kindly, and turned away so she could close the door.

* * *

"Have you asked him if he wants you to leave?" Dr. Jones asked gently.

Clara shook her head. "I've been too afraid to. I don't want to stay if he doesn't want me, but I don't really want to hear him tell me to leave either."

Dr. Jones reached out and gave Clara's hand a quick squeeze. "Well, I think that if you talk to him about this he won't kick you out into the cold. He may not think it's appropriate for you two to give in to your feelings, but I don't think he'll force you to leave if you really don't want to. I'm sure the two of you will be able to come up with some kind of compromise."

Clara was quiet for the last remaining minutes of their session. As soon as they were done, Dr. Jones ushered her out into the lobby, where she would have to wait for Matt.

She felt a chorus of butterflies flutter up in her chest. What was she going to do about him?

Clara hurried outside as she saw Matt's car coming. Their drive home was a perfect time for her to take Dr. Jones' advice to talk to him. She knew that she was essentially trapping him into talking to her, but Clara wasn't convinced there was any other way she would be able to get him to stop and listen.

Clara filled with disappointment when she caught sight of who was driving the car.

"Hey there Clara, Matt's stuck in a meeting so he sent me to get you." Jack smiled at her as she climbed into the car. "We carpooled today, so he sent me with his car."

Clara's smile wilted a little as she shut the door. "Good to see you, Jack."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Ouch, cold reception. Were you hoping for someone else?"

She sighed. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just need to talk to Matt, that's all. I don't know how great my opportunities will be once he gets home."

"Ah," Jack said, "you two lovebirds run into a rough patch?"

Clara shrugged. "We'll see."

Jack glanced over at her, and reached out to rub her arm. "Don't worry about it, Clair-bear; I'm sure you two will work things out."

Clara raised her eyebrows at him. "Clair-bear?"

He gave her his sultry grin. "Would you rather I call you shrimp?"

She groaned, and shook her head. "You're a magnet for trouble, aren't you?"

Jack laughed. "What can I say darlin', I like to have a little fun with my life."

Clara couldn't help it; she laughed with him the rest of the ride home. Jack truly was infectious.

* * *

"Where is she?"

Clara glanced up at the door when she heard Matt burst into the small salon. He sounded angry more than anything. She only hoped he wouldn't be too hard on Amy, the redhead didn't deserve it; she'd only been trying to do something nice for Clara.

"In the back, Matt, calm down," Amy's voice came through the walls loud and clear. "She doesn't need you to go in this agitated, it'll only upset her more."

"Maybe you should've thought of that sooner, Amy," Clara heard Matt growl. He said something else, but it was too low for her to make out clearly.

Clara took a sip of her water, and waited.

Matt opened the door slowly, and only just enough for him to poke his head into the room. "Clara?"

She smiled weakly. "You can come in, Matt."

She stood as he entered the room, and met him halfway into a hug. He held her tightly. "I'm so sorry about this. I swear I didn't know anything about it."

She nodded. "I know; it's okay. Amy meant well, I just…couldn't handle them all in my face, that's all."

Matt pulled away to give her a little room to breathe. "Are you okay? You're shaking."

Clara glanced down at her hands, and clenched them into fists when she saw he was right. "Yeah, I'm fine, but I need to go home."

"Of course," Matt murmured, and offered her his arm. She allowed him to wrap it around her shoulders, and leaned into him as they went back out into the salon.

The four people waiting in the larger room all snapped their eyes to Clara as soon as she was in sight.

Amy was the first to stand. "Are you alright, Clara?"

Clara nodded, and reached out to squeeze Amy's arm. "I know you meant well, Amy, I'm sorry about this."

She shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous, Clara, it was my fault. I shouldn't have pushed you like that."

Matt's arm around her tightened. "Let's go home, Clara."

"Can we grab my stuff out of Amy's car first?"

He glanced down at her, and the hard look in his eyes softened. "Yeah, Amy?"

"Follow me," Amelia said, and led them out of the salon.

The ride home was quiet. Matt had the radio on, but Clara wasn't paying any attention to the voices coming out of the speakers. She could feel the tension coming off of Matt in waves, and wished there was some way she could get him to relax. It wasn't Amy's fault, not really. She wasn't used to thinking about the world the same way Clara did. She didn't see shadows around every corner, or suspect ordinary people for no reason other than the fact that they looked at her.

Clara couldn't blame her for not understanding, and she certainly couldn't blame her for not knowing she was pushing too far. Despite all of their time together, Amy still didn't know Clara all that well. She'd never seen Clara in a public setting.

"Don't be angry, Matt," Clara whispered. "Amy and Jack just wanted to do something nice."

"Nice?" Matt scoffed. "They should have checked with me first."

"You would have said no," Clara pointed out.

"Yeah, and you wouldn't have had to go through that," he countered.

Clara sighed. "Matt, it's my life. I didn't have to go with Amy, but I did. It was all my choice. You can't expect Amy to be prepared for something like that to happen. She hasn't dealt with anything like this in her day to day life before. You can't be angry with her for not knowing how far was too far when I didn't warn her beforehand. I'm sure if I had things wouldn't have gotten that far."

Matt was quiet for a long time.

"Matt?"

He made a hard turn onto their road, and didn't speak until the car was successfully parked in front of the flat.

He sighed, and turned to face her. "I know all of that, Clara, I do, but…you can't blame me for being at least a little angry."

Clara moved to speak, but he held up a finger.

"Let me finish. Clara, when Amy called and told me what had happened, my heart stopped." He leaned forward to brush a stray hair away from her eyes. "You scared me today, Clara Oswald. A lot."

Clara swallowed, and reached up to take his hand. "I'm sorry."

"You should be." He chuckled. "I swear, Clara, you'll be the death of me."

She cracked a crooked smile. "Yeah, that's why you like me."

Matt glanced at the clock. "Well, we've missed the fancy dinner reservations I had planned for us, but if you want to grab a few blankets and head up to the roof I think I can still salvage this night."

Clara laughed softly, and kissed his cheek. "I'll meet you on the roof."

He grinned, and scrambled out of the car. "Race you!"

She rolled her eyes, but hurried after him. "Last one there is a looney!"

"Oi, I think that title belongs with you," Matt shouted back from the kitchen.

Clara laughed, and hurried over to the closet where he kept blankets. "And yet, I'm still gonna beat you!"

"Are not!" he shouted.

"Are too!" she squealed as she ran out of their apartment and scurried up the stairs.

"What the hell are you damn kids doing?" a grumpy voice shouted after her.

"Sorry Ms. Higgins!" Clara called back, before hurrying back to her task at hand.

Clara laughed as she burst onto the roof, and dropped her pile of blankets. Her giggles quieted as the cold air cleared her head. It was quiet; the sounds of traffic were easily blocked out as she tried to catch sight of the stars. She could only just see them peeking through the clouds and lights of London.

"I hope you like cheese and grapes, because that's all I could gather under my time constraint," Matt said as he joined her on the roof. "Clara?"

She smiled. "Aren't they beautiful?"

He set down the shopping bag he was carrying, and glanced up. "Are what beautiful?"

"The stars," she answered. "I always wanted to see them. Up close, I mean. Space travel and all that whatnot. I wanted to be an astronaut when I was little, before I decided I was scared of heights."

Matt chuckled as he stepped closer to wrap an arm around her waist. "Clara Oswald? Scared of something? I didn't think that was possible."

She glanced up to find him smiling at her. "I think you'll see stars someday yet, Clara Oswald," His voice had gone soft around her name, and Clara felt her heart skip a beat.

"Only if you're with me," she said, and reached down to take his hand. "I could never travel alone. I'd need a hand to hold."

Clara saw Matt's breath hitch in his throat, but stayed quiet. She couldn't hear the blaring sounds of traffic at all anymore. It had all been replaced with the steady thumping of Matt's heart under her fingertips.

"I'm sorry your plans tonight didn't work out," Clara whispered.

He shrugged. "Who needs dinner?" He leaned down to grab the shopping bag. "When we've got cheese?"

Clara laughed, and reached down to grab a blanket. Sure, their first date may not have gone quite to plan, but she was glad it hadn't.

Plans never really worked in their favor anyway.


	21. Chapter 21: Revelation

**Hello everyone! I finally made a decision plot-wise, so here's another chapter! Big thank you to ThePurpleFrockCoat and Sassywriterchick for your ever lovely reviews. **

**I really do hope I'll get to see your reactions to this chapter, as it is beyond important, and probably a little shocking to those of you without inside knowledge. Please enjoy! **

* * *

**Chapter 20: Revelation.**

Matt was sick and tired of waiting.

It had been almost a month since he'd heard anything from detective Smith, and Matt was starting to feel antsy. What was taking her so long? They had River's name now, and her face, so what was the problem?

Matt changed the channel on the television to some nameless show, and mindlessly continued to outline the next few chapters he had planned for Clara's story. He had to call it her story. It was hers, it had always been hers. He may have been the one who had the idea originally, of course, but this was her life he was writing about. Sure, parts of it were him, which was unavoidable—he had been a large part of her life—or he'd like to believe that he had—and she of his. He loved her, he had to honor her memory to the best of his ability.

At the heart of the matter, the story belonged solely to Clara. Just like everything else left in his life. And he'd come to terms with that, grown to enjoy it even. It was almost as though she was there with him when everything still reminded him of her.

He smiled a little at that thought, and continued to thoughtlessly doodle along the edge of his page.

The turn of a key was all the warning he got before his sister burst through the door. "I'm home!" Jenny shouted, "And I brought friends!"

"Hey, Smithy!" Jack's voice boomed through the room.

Matt closed his eyes against the oncoming headache, but forced himself to stand. "Hey, Jack."

Jack stopped mid-step when he caught sight of Matt. "Whoa there, Smith, you look…rugged."

Matt reached up to feel along his jaw where the beginnings of a beard were starting to show. "Yeah, didn't have anywhere to be, so why bother?"

"I thought I told you to shave that this morning," Jenny groaned. "You have an appointment today, remember?"

"That's why I'm here." Jack winked. "What's say we get you all cleaned up so I can take you to see your quack?"

"_Jenny_," Matt whined.

Jenny smacked Jack's shoulder. "What did I tell you?"

Jack's lips stretched into a smug smile. "Sorry doll, I just can't help myself around Tylers."

"Oi," Matt grumbled. "Back off there, mate."

His friend raised an eyebrow. "Who says I was talking about Jenny?"

"No," Jenny said firmly. "Jack, no."

Jack laughed and held up his hands. "I surrender, okay? C'mon, Matt, let's get you to your appointment before your sister gives me some kind of permanent damage."

Matt rolled his eyes, but trudged up the stairs.

He was just going to shut his door to get ready, when the phone rang.

"Hello?" Jenny's voice echoed up the stairs, and Matt paused to listen. "Now? But he has an appointment…no, I don't think we can reschedule."

"Jenny, who is it?" Matt called down the stairs.

"It's that detective," Jenny called back.

Matt immediately ran back down to the main floor of the flat. "Gimme," he demanded, holding out his hand for the phone.

Jenny held the receiver against her chest. "Go get ready."

"Jenny, my house, my phone, gimme." He wiggled his fingers.

She rolled her eyes, but plopped the phone into his hand. "Real mature, John."

Matt ignored her, and pressed the phone to his ear. "This is Matt speaking."

"Mr. Smith, this is detective Smith. We need you to come to the station as soon as possible."

"Yeah, got that bit, more interested in the why." Matt tapped his toes with impatience.

"Matt," Jack interjected, "whatever it is, it can wait."

"We found Miss River Song. She's in custody at the station right now, but she's refusing to talk to us until she sees you." Sarah-Jane let out a frustrated breath. "She's rather stubborn, isn't she?"

"I'll be right there," Matt promised, and hung up the phone.

"No you won't." Jenny snatched the phone away from him. "You're going to the therapy session I set up for you."

Matt glared at his sister. "Jen, I'll go, I promise, but this is important. Therapy can wait for another day." He pushed past her to grab his car keys. "Besides, I'm cleared to drive now, aren't I?"

"With supervision!" Her voice shot up an octave as he rushed to pull on his jacket. "Matt, I thought we agreed that you needed this session!"

He glanced at Jack, and raised an eyebrow. "What's your take on all of this?"

Jack held up his hands. "Hey, I'm not going to get myself in the middle of this melodrama."

"Matt." Jenny grabbed his arm and yanked him around to face her. "I know finding out what happened to Clara is important, I understand. But you're scaring me, and mum, and dad. I understand you need to solve her mystery, but we need _you_," her voice held a desperate note in it. "Please, Matt, can't this just wait until after your appointment?"

He stared at her for a moment. "I'm sorry, Jen." He opened the door, and looked over to Jack. "Coming?"

Jack sighed, and gave Jenny an apologetic look. "Someone has to look after him right?"

Jenny crossed her arms. "Fine. I'll just call to reschedule the appointment, shall I?"

"Thanks, Jen!" Matt called over his shoulder.

"She's going to kill you when you come back," Jack said as the two of them climbed into Matt's car. "Right after I do."

Matt rolled his eyes. "If you were going to kill me for this you would have stopped me by now."

His best friend sighed wearily. "Just drive, Smithy, before I change my mind."

Matt gave him a wry smile as he started up the car. "Thanks, Harkness."

* * *

"She's right through those doors." Detective Smith pointed directly ahead of where they stood. "We'll be in a booth behind the glass the whole time. It would be helpful if you could get her to talk. She knows something."

"How would I do that?"

"Ask her about Simeon. Try to get her to create a timeline for you from the time you last saw her before you met Clara, to now." Smith patted his upper arm encouragingly. "You'll do fine."

Matt nodded. "Right. Okay."

Jack nudged his shoulder. "You okay to do this mate?"

He nodded. "Yeah." He shot Jack the best confident look he could manage, and headed through the doors.

The room was small and cold. The only objects in it were a set of table and chairs, and a glass half filled with water. Matt swallowed; the sparse décor reminded him of the house he and his mother used to share with Paul.

He forced himself to suppress the memories that were trying to crop up, and finally settled his eyes on the only other person inside the small space.

River smirked at him. "Hello sweetie."

Matt swallowed down a hard lump in his throat, and squeezed down on the door handle before fully entering the room. "Sorry I'm late honey—traffic was hell." His tone fell flat, and his tongue felt like it was covered in Novocain. He felt heavy, as if her very presence was pressing down on him, constricting him and making it hard to breathe.

She folded her hands and rolled her head in a slow circle. "Well you're here, so I suppose they've told you I went to see Clara the day she died."

Matt forced his legs to work so he could come closer to the table. "They did."

"And I suppose you want me to tell you why I was there, how long I'd known Clara, etcetera." She let out a loud breath. "Yeah?"

Matt nodded slowly, but he didn't speak. He felt suspended underneath her stare. A stare he had, at one time, found inviting. Now all he could see was a stranger, a wall between the two of them. Her stare held nothing but a cold, calculating look. She was sizing him up, preparing her defenses.

She was a predator. How had he not seen this before?

Her lips twitched up at his lack of a response. "What's the matter, love?"

"Was everything a lie?" He croaked. "All of it? Was there any part to it that held any grain of truth at all?"

River's face fell. "Yes."

Matt gnawed on his lips and sucked in his cheeks. He glanced over at the one-way mirror on the back wall of the interrogation room, and sighed. "How long were you back in London before you contacted Clara?"

She shrugged. "A month or so."

"A month?" Matt's voice rose in pitch. "What were you doing in all that time?"

Her lips pulled up into a wry smile. "Spoilers."

He narrowed his eyes. "Okay. Where you working for Simeon?"

"Before or after I approached Clara?"

"Yes."

"Yes," she said. Her eyes darkened and her voice dropped into a softer tone as she leaned towards him. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry. She really was lovely, Matthew."

Matt's jaw ticked. "Did you take her to that warehouse?"

River swallowed. "Matt, I—"

"River, please just answer the question," he snapped.

Matt was shocked to see hurt flash across her face. "It's Melody."

He snorted. "Just answer the question, please."

She pushed away from his tone and folded her arms. "No. Clara wanted to go to the warehouse; I offered to drive her there."

Matt pulled his eyebrows down in puzzlement. This wasn't making any sense. "Why did she want to go there?"

River stared at him. "All of this is on the tape she left you. Haven't you listened to it?"

Matt's eyes dropped to his hands. "Please just answer the question."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Oh. You haven't; have you?"

He refused to answer her. He was not going to feed in to her game anymore. "Why did Clara want to go to the warehouse?"

River sighed. "She was trying to find out what happened to her mother. I helped her track down Simeon. He was the one waiting for us at the location."

Matt's eyes widened. "What? River, what were you thinking? Clara was ill, she was off her meds. Without them she's convinced that a terrorist group targeted and killed her mother. And why in God's name would you take her to _Simeon_?" He spat the man's name. Anger was his most dominant emotion now. "What; was the plan to hand her over to him so he could—so he could…" Matt pulled in a shaky breath to calm himself. He couldn't go there—he couldn't allow himself to imagine what Simeon may have tried to do to his Clara.

River remained stony calm while she waited for him to get ahold of himself. "Yes."

Matt froze. "What?"

"Yes," she repeated. "Simeon ordered me to bring Clara to him. No, he was not going to do anything to her that you're imagining. He always intended to give her what she came for."

Matt tried to reply, but he couldn't get his lungs to work properly. This couldn't be real.

"And," River continued, "he always intended to kill her. She was a liability, Matt." Her face had taken on a false sympathetic look, but Matt could see the ice in her eyes. "She wasn't going to stop looking, and she couldn't be allowed to take any of the information she found to any kind of authority."

Matt forced out a breath. "So, you killed her to save your bosses skin?"

River shook her head. "No, Matt, I didn't kill her. And I didn't allow it to happen to save his skin—I did it to save myself."

Her words hit him square in the chest, and Matt gasped for air. "W-what do you mean, you didn't kill her?"

She reached a hand out towards him, but thought better of her action and let it fall to the table. "Matt, you're asking the wrong questions. It's not the why or the what you should be thinking about, it's the who."

"Okay." Matt threw his hands into the air and let them clap together lightly. "Then who?"

River shook her head. "I can't tell you."

Frustration rushed through him. "Why the hell not?"

Her lips twitched. "Spoilers."

He growled. "Give me _something_, River."

Her eyes flickered towards the mirror, and she sighed wearily. "They're hiding in plain sight, Matt—I'm surprised your detective friend hasn't figured it out yet."

Matt narrowed his eyes. "I know them?"

She searched his face for a moment. "Yes."

Matt jumped when the door opened. It was detective Smith. "Thank you, Mr. Smith, that's all we need for now."

Matt glanced back at River one last time. "See you around, Professor Song."

He was once again surprised to see a sincerely warm smile cross her face. "Until the next time, Doctor."

His heart stopped, and he stared at her for a moment—rooted to his place by her use of the nickname. That wasn't a name he ever wanted to hear again.

"Hey Smithy, we have to go now. Jenny's been phoning me for the last ten minutes to get us home."

Jack's voice broke Matt's spell and he straightened himself up. He spun away from River on his heel, and quickly left the room.

* * *

"Matt, phone for you!" Jenny called.

Matt finished typing his sentence and sighed. "Who is it?"

His sister appeared in the doorway. She had a look in her eye that immediately made Matt's stomach drop to the floor.

She held out the phone to him. "Mum."

Matt let his head fall back as his stomach shot up a flurry of butterflies. "You didn't."

Jenny walked up to his desk to shove the phone in his face. "I did."

He snatched the phone from her hands, and made sure to level a dark glare in her direction. "You realize that this means war."

Jenny rolled her eyes. "Oh, grow up." She swiftly turned back around to head out of his study. "Just give her the same explanation you gave me! I'm sure that'll go over well." She called over her shoulder.

Matt grumbled, and hesitantly brought the device to his ear. "Hi, Mum."

"John Matthew Smith what the hell were you thinking?"

Matt cringed at the anger in Rose's voice. "I'm sorry, Mum, I had to see her."

"What the hell for?" She shrieked. "Why couldn't the police take care of her? Why did you need to be there?"

He let out a weary breath. "She refused to talk to anyone but me. I had to go so detective Smith could keep the case from getting stuck at a dead end."

"Matt, why is this case even reopened?" Rose's voice held a softer note in it now. "Clara was very sick; you know she'd been off her meds for weeks." She sighed. "I know you don't want to accept it, sweetheart, but she did this to herself."

Matt couldn't believe what he was hearing. "No she didn't. River took her to the warehouse, mum, to meet Simeon. Someone at that location killed her."

"Matt," Rose huffed.

"How don't you believe me?" Matt's voice took on an aggravated tone. "You of all people."

"Matt, I believe you. I trust you—I _don't_ trust River. She's done nothing but manipulate you the entire time I've known her. She's a temptress, Matt. She's just trying to play another game with you." Rose had taken on a more comforting tone of voice, but Matt shivered against her words. He had not wanted his most recent revelation about River's character to be voiced so soon.

"Darling, we're worried about you. We all just want to see you get better. Please go talk to someone professional. If not for yourself, then for your friends and family." She was pleading with him now.

Matt looked down at his typewriter, his eyes locking on the words he'd just printed. He'd only just finished an article on the importance of family for the magazine he had only recently gotten a job with. It was a smaller company than he was used to, and the pay wasn't as good, but the scale of it allowed him to work from home much more often.

"Matt, you need help."

She was right; he knew she was right. Matt knew the best thing for him to do at this point would be to put himself into therapy, but going to talk to a counselor felt like giving up. He'd never needed one in the past despite the horror that was his childhood, so how could one possibly benefit him now? It felt like weakness, and Matt knew with absolute certainty that he was too far gone to be able to afford weakness. It would break him and he would never be able to come back from that.

He couldn't afford to face what had happened, not even if it was possible that talking about it with a professional could help. The chance of him finally breaking into unfixable pieces was far higher than the chance of him improving by now. He knew that, so why couldn't everyone see it? Why couldn't they just let him be?

"No," he said.

Rose was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm not going." Matt made sure to speak slowly so there was absolutely no room for a misunderstanding.

"Matt—"

"No," he said more firmly. "I'm sorry, mum." He hung up the phone, and stared across the room. Her chair stared impassively back at him. "Jenny!"

"Yeah?" His sister's voice echoed out to him, and he heard her walking down the stairs.

Matt stood and walked over to the door of his study. "I think you should go back home."

She stopped mid-step, and stared at him in shock. "What?"

He kept his eyes focused on her, forcing himself to follow through with his spontaneous decision. "Go home. Go back to your life. I'm okay here, I think any symptoms I could have had would have presented themselves by now."

Jenny still didn't move from her spot at the foot of the stairs. "Matt—"

He held up a hand. "Jenny, I'll call you or Jack or even mum and dad if I'm in trouble. I'm a big boy now; I can take care of myself." He gave her a halfhearted smile. "I don't want to keep holding you back from your life."

She blinked, and approached him cautiously. "You're not holding me back from anything, Johnny boy, where is this coming from?"

Matt swallowed. "I just want things to go back to normal, Jen." His eyes slid past her to focus on the carpet of the stairs.

Jenny was quiet for a long time.

"John, look at me." She waited until his focus was back on her. "I'll go, but only on one condition."

"Yes?" He prompted when she didn't continue.

She grabbed him by both shoulders. "Go see a therapist. Even if you only go once. You need to talk to someone."

Matt ground his teeth together. "I wish people would stop telling me what I need."

Jenny didn't respond to his scathing comment. "Do we have a deal?" She held out her hand.

His lip twitched up into a half smile. "Deal." He shook her hand firmly, and crossed his fingers.

His sister kissed his cheek. "I'll be out of your hair in an hour or so." She turned, and headed back up the stairs.

Matt's ears picked up on her mobile ringing by the front door. He shuffled over to check the caller ID, and turned it off. It was Rose calling, no doubt to inform Jenny about his true intentions regarding therapy, which was ultimately counterproductive to his plan to be left alone.

He pulled in a deep breath, and shuffled back into his study to finish editing his article.

* * *

This was it.

This was the day Matt had feared for a long time, ever since her death had been confirmed at least. This was the day he knew would be towards the top of his increasing list of hardest days for the rest of his life.

It was the anniversary of his wedding day.

He turned off the engine of his car, and pulled in a slow breath through his nose. He let it out slowly through his mouth, and glanced over at the fresh flower he'd bought. He hadn't been able to find white roses, so he'd brought her a carnation instead.

He sniffed, and yanked his coat on tighter before grabbing the flower, reaching back for a blanket from the back seat of his car, and exiting the vehicle to walk towards her stone.

Matt felt himself smile slightly when it came into view. "Hello Clara." He stopped by the headstone and laid the blanket out on the grass. "I brought something for you." He cleared away the dead flowers at the base of her stone, and set the fresh carnation in their place. "I'm sorry it's not roses, but I couldn't find any in the color you like."

The air around him remained quiet and still. Matt remembered hating this place when he'd come for the funeral. It had left him with a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach and caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. He felt watched here among the dead. Now, however, he barely noticed the feeling. Instead, he concentrated on what he wanted to say to Clara.

"Jenny went back home," he said quietly. "She was trying to get me into therapy." His lips twitched up into a slight smile. "I know what you would say to that. You'd tell me to go; you'd make some kind of impossible argument that I would have no hope of winning." He looked at her stone, and reached out to caress the letters of her name. "And you would be right. But I'm sorry, I can't go. I can't lose you all over again, Clara."

He paused, and reached into the pocket of his jacket. "I brought something else." He pulled out the cassette tape. "River said you left a message on it for me. I thought you'd just left me your word…" He trailed off. "Why didn't you confide in me, Clara? Why didn't you tell me what you were doing? You didn't have to turn to River for help, I would have helped you. I had sources with the newspaper that could have helped you. Why didn't you come to me?"

Matt paused, and wished for all the world that she was there to answer his questions. He needed her, so much that it terrified him, and she wasn't there. She never would be again.

"I miss you," he murmured.

Matt spent a good portion of his day sitting by her headstone talking. To her, to himself, he wasn't sure anymore. He wasn't sure if she could actually hear him—or, if she did, that she was even listening.

Once he had finally left the graveyard he spent a significant amount of time driving around town. He had nowhere to be, and nothing to do, and the last thing he wanted to do was go back home.

His mobile rang, and Matt didn't bother to check the caller ID before answering it.

"Hello?"

"Matt, its Jack, where are you?" Jack's voice sounded uncharacteristically worried.

"I'm fine, Harkness, I'm heading home." Matt's tone was scathing, but he couldn't help himself. Today, of all days, he wished everyone would just leave him alone.

"Jenny called, and your mum, they're worried."

He let out a loud breath. "Tell them if they want to know if I'm okay they can call me directly."

"Matt, you really hurt them," Jack said bluntly, a new edge in his voice wiping away all traces of his concern. "All they want is to make sure you're safe."

Matt snorted. "Well, I'm fine. Thanks for checking in."

"Matt—" he hung up the phone before Jack could finish. He was grateful for his friend's concern, but Matt was out of patience for his family and friends, all he wanted was this day to be by himself.

He pulled his car up to the curb outside of his house, and stopped the car. The streetlamps were just starting to switch on, and the sun had just begun to sink below the edge of the horizon.

Matt quickly unlocked his door, and sighed heavily. He slammed the door and headed towards his study.

He sank down in his chair and slumped over his desk. The usual hole he carried in his chest had twisted into a full-fledged pain that constantly dug deeper and deeper into his core. He was tired, too tired to try to deal with it anymore. Matt wanted it all to turn off for a while—he wanted for the world to dull to a soft haze, if only for the few hours left in this day. He couldn't bear this anymore.

Matt let out a deep, deciding breath, and headed for his liquor cabinet. Maybe, if he allowed alcohol to numb his senses for a few hours, the pain in his chest would dull back down again. He needed some kind of anesthesia to relieve this weight he carried.

He pulled out the scotch Jack had given to him, and grabbed a glass from the cabinet. Matt carried the bottle and glass into his study, and sat down before pouring himself a drink.

Matt knew he shouldn't be doing this. He had to be careful with liquor, he knew that. Alcoholism ran in his family, and he'd seen firsthand what kind of a monster the habit would turn him into. He'd been fearful of that monster all his life, going out of his way to drink as little as possible—if at all—to escape becoming his father. It wasn't logical, Matt knew the choice to stay sober was entirely up to him, but he couldn't help fearing the idea that he might make the wrong one.

Matt pulled the cassette tape back out of his jacket pocket before carelessly throwing the garment over the back of his chair. He set the tape on his desk, and stared at it while he swirled his drink. Should he? Could he?

Matt popped the tape into his stereo, and clicked the door shut. His finger hovered over the play button for a moment, hesitating. There was no going back after this. Once he'd heard what she had to say, that would be the end. She would really be dead.

Matt shook his head; he'd been over all of this before. It was time.

He pressed play.

For a moment only a quiet static came through his speakers. Matt's whole body tensed with anticipation, and he clutched his glass of scotch even closer to his chest. What would she have to say?

_"Hello Doctor."_ Her voice flooded the room, and a great gust of air forced itself into Matt's lungs. His whole body relaxed and the pain in his chest finally quieted. For the first time in a long time, Matt could breathe.

"Hello Clara," he murmured back.

_"I suppose you already know why you're listening to this, so I won't bother with the obvious…"_ She trailed off when her voice trembled, and Matt relished in the sound of her—even though he knew her fears had been realized. He couldn't feel anything but the relief her voice brought to his suffering. Grief and remorse could come after he'd come down from his high.

He heard another voice in the background, and immediately snapped his eyes back open.

River.

_"A friend of mine has been helping me uncover the truth behind my mother's death,"_ Clara continued, and Matt didn't like the clinical tone her voice had taken on. _"We're heading out to meet with a man now that has some answers for me…"_

Matt held his breath; he should have come home early that day. They were supposed to have had lunch together; he could have come early to pick her up at work. Why hadn't he thought of that? Why hadn't he seen her hiding things from him?

_"I'm sorry,"_ she sobbed, and Matt's eyes stung as the tears welled up. _"I'm sorry Matthew, I should have confided in you. I know I should have, I wanted to, but you wouldn't have believed me. I love you, but if you had found out what I was doing you would have thought I was off my meds. You would have taken me right back to the asylum. Matt, I can't go back there." _She sniffed, and let out a shaky breath.

Matt pulled in a breath of his own, and stared down at his drink.

She let out a slow, even breath. _"No, I'm sorry. This is the only way. Odds are I'll come home after this, and you won't ever hear this tape…"_

She was quiet again, and Matt heard River call for her in the background.

_"Just a moment more!" _She called back.

Matt clenched his teeth. He wanted to cry out to her, to warn her about what River was about to lead her into. He wished for all the world that he'd saved her—that he'd warned her off River, that he'd come home early, that he could wrap his arms around her and hide her from the fate she was about to step blindly into.

But this was as close as he was going to get.

_"I thought up my word,"_ she said quietly. _"I've recorded it on the other side of this tape. Flip it over and press play…and Matt…"_ She pulled in another breath, and Matt closed his eyes against what he knew she was going to say. _"I love you. I always will."_

Matt clenched his eyes even tighter together, and fought against the tremors in his chest. The pain was back in full force, maybe even worse than it had been before.

_"Goodbye, Doctor,"_ she murmured, and her voice increased his pain by tenfold. _"Be safe."_

The tape rattled as it came to its end, and the door of the stereo popped open.

Matt stared out into space for a long moment, his eyes glazed over. He wasn't really seeing what was in front of him.

He blinked to escape his fog, and looked down at the scotch he still held in his hand.

Matt shook his head at himself, and brought the glass up to his lips.

His eyes closed when his mobile started to once again ring in his pocket. With a great sigh, he set the glass down on his desk and fished the device from his pocket to answer the call.

"What?"

"Jesus, Raggedy man, we don't speak for months and that's the greeting I get?" A rough Scottish voice said.

"Amy," Matt muttered, and let out a loud breath. "Jack called you, didn't he?"

"Maybe," Amy said. "Or maybe it was the thirteen other messages I've received from your family today. What's going on, John?"

Matt swallowed. "It's April fifteenth."

Amy was quiet for a long moment.

"Talk to me," she said.

Matt couldn't help the smile that tugged on his lips. "Okay."


	22. Chapter 22: Lies My Parents Told Me

**Hello! I think this is the chapter many of you have been waiting for, and I'm eager to see how it's received. Thank you to ThePurpleFrockCoat, Ernold Same, sassywriterchick, TheFrenchShore, and bleuboxes for your reviews on the last chapter, your feedback really helped me get through the rough patches in this next one. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 21: Lies My Parents Told Me.**

The only current sounds in the apartment lounge were the ticking of a clock and the furious scratching of Clara's pen against the paper of her journal. She'd been at it for a couple of months now, making absolute certain to write at least a sentence or two every day. Her therapist was impressed with her diligence, and made sure to compliment her on it every chance she got. Personally, Clara didn't see why she was making such a big deal of it.

"Have you seen my purple tie?" Matt's voice echoed down the stairs.

"Top right shelf!" Clara called back.

She paused after a moment of quiet. "Three…two…"

"Found it!"

Clara smiled to herself and kept scribbling. She pressed one final word into the page, and signed her name with a small flourish. She slowly closed the cover of the journal, and ran her hand over its surface. Matt still didn't know it existed, and she planned on keeping it that way—for a while, at least. She shared everything with him; it was only fair that she have something that was only hers.

She glanced up when footsteps came bounding down the stairs.

Matt jumped from the bottom steps to the landing, and held his arms out wide. "Well? What do you think?" He twirled so she could view every angle.

She raised her eyebrows. He looked the same as he always did. "Looks fine to me."

He jutted out his lower lip into a pout. "C'mon Clara, give me something to work with. I might be getting a promotion today."

She smiled, and stood up to walk over to him. He stayed perfectly still as she reached up to fix his bowtie and dust off his shoulders.

"There," she said, "perfect."

He grinned, and gave her a light peck on her lips. "See you tonight? Maybe we can go out and celebrate."

Clara squeezed his hands. "I'd like that."

He squeezed her hands back, and spun on his heel towards the door. Clara watched him go with a fond expression on her face, and chuckled to herself as she watched him get into his car. He had already fumbled with his keys more than once, nearly dropping them into a large puddle in his attempt to leave on time.

"My Doctor," she mumbled. "What ever will I do with you?"

She waited until his car was fully out of view before scooping up her keys and jacket. Her walk to the bookshop was one of her favorite parts of the day. It was a small window of time Clara was allowed to be all by herself, and she took advantage of the quiet.

The city noise would always dampen around her as she headed down the block from the apartment. Clara breathed in the cold morning air, and smiled up at the sky above her. It looked as though it was going to be a rare sunny day, which would be a treat for her.

"Morning, Clara!" Craig called from his position behind the counter. "Got some new stock you might want to take a peek at. It's in the back."

"Thanks boss," she said, and headed towards the backroom of the shop. She hung up her coat on the hook in the wall, and turned to open up the boxes on the small desk from which Craig liked to primarily work.

"Oh, you're early, hi Clara."

Clara spun around to find Craig's wife, Sophie hanging up her coat. She smiled. "Hi Sophie, how's Alfie?"

Sophie laughed. "He's good. I swear, though, Craig is more of a child than Alfie is."

Clara laughed with her. "Matt's the same way."

"Clara!"

She grinned. "I best get out there."

Sophie moved away from the door so she could pass through.

Craig waved her closer. "Miss Song here is looking for a novel from our mystery section."

"Your boss tells me that mystery is your forte," the woman purred.

Clara stopped in her tracks. Sure enough, it was that strange woman from the department store standing on the other side of the cash register. She smiled politely at Clara, but the gesture didn't quite look genuine. It didn't meet her eyes.

Clara cleared her throat, and smiled back tightly. "Yes, follow me."

Miss Song nodded, and followed her towards the back. "I'm sorry, but have we met before? You look somewhat familiar."

"No, I don't think so," Clara said.

The woman snapped her fingers. "You're that woman from the department store. You were with another Scottish friend, and you were buying a blue dress."

Clara gave her a wary look. "I'm not quite sure I remember."

"My name's Melody," she held out her hand. "But everyone calls me River Song."

Clara took her hand cautiously. "Clara Oswald…what kind of novel were you looking for?"

Melody smiled again. "I'm sorry; I'm making you uncomfortable, aren't I? I just thought you looked familiar. I used to know a lady who looked a lot like you. Her name was Ellie."

Clara froze. "What?"

Melody cocked her head. "Does that name mean something to you?"

"Um…" Clara blindly reached for a book and handed it to Melody. "This is one of our recently stocked mysteries. I think you'll enjoy it." She tried to quickly side-step around Miss Song, but was stopped by a hand on her arm.

Her blood ran cold as her eyes locked with Melody's cold blue gaze. "I know you've been told your mother's death was an accident, Clara, but it wasn't. I can help you track down the people who wanted her dead."

Clara yanked her arm out of the other woman's grasp. "My mother died in a car accident. No one wanted it to happen."

Melody sighed. "Well, if you ever change your mind…" she tucked a card into Clara's pocket. "Give me a ring."

Clara stayed frozen in place as River elegantly spun away from her towards the open floor of the shop. She could barely keep herself from hyperventilating as she listened to Craig ring her up and escort her out.

She let out a sigh of relief when she heard the door close behind the woman, and cautiously stepped out from in between the bookcases.

"Clara? Are you alright?" Craig asked.

She stared through the front door at the street. "There was really a woman that was just in here, right? You saw her too?"

"Yes." Her boss let out a nervous laugh. "Why?"

Clara shook her head, and marched towards the backroom again. "Never mind."

* * *

"Name," the pharmacist droned.

"Oswald, Clara Oswald." Clara leaned in closer to the window to make sure he would hear her correctly. She'd already had more than one incident involving mixed-up medications with this particular pharmacist.

He sighed heavily. "Hold on." He tapped a few keys on his computer. "ID and check please."

Clara glanced at her total for the medication, and quickly fished the items from her purse as the pharmacist stepped towards the back to get her prescription. She almost smiled to herself as she filled out the check under her name. She had only recently gotten back control over her accounts.

It had been a long fight between her and Linda. Proving herself to be mentally capable of handling her own finances when already diagnosed with schizophrenia had been a nightmare. But once Linda's argument had been disproved and all the paperwork was signed, Clara had walked out feeling better than she had in years. She was free.

"Here you are, miss." The pharmacist sent back her ID and prescription.

"Thank you," Clara said, and spun around to head back out where Matt was waiting for her.

She smiled when she was clear of the building. He, as the impatient being he always was, looked like he had just gotten out of the car to come look for her. He had stopped mid-step in the middle of the parking lot when she came into view.

He grinned sheepishly, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "All set?"

She nodded, and looped her arm with his. "Now will you tell me where we're going?"

Matt shook his head. "I'm under oath."

Clara let out a frustrated groan. "Oh come on, Matthew, just tell me."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"_John Smith_, please just tell me where we're going." She demanded, giving him the most commanding look she could muster.

"Oi," he complained, "bossy."

Clara's lips pulled up into a smirk. "Well I am the impossible girl, am I not?"

Matt snorted as he pulled them out onto the motorway. "That you are."

She glanced back at the road behind them. "Matt…"

He sighed, and reached over to squeeze her hand. "Relax, Clara, and just trust me. We're going to Rose and David's, if it makes you feel better to know."

She relaxed into her seat a little. "Oh…why?"

"Clara," he grumbled, "I'm under oath. I wasn't even supposed to tell you as much as I have."

"Who put you under oath?"

"Jen and Rose." He glanced over at her. "And you know they'd kill me if they found out you knew anything."

"Fine," Clara grouched, and sat back into her seat.

They were quiet for a while.

"Your Aunt called me the other day," Matt said. His tone was cautious, and his eyes nervously flicked to her face to gauge her reaction. "She, uh, wanted to check in to see how you were getting along."

Clara let out a bitter laugh. "What did she really want?"

"That was all." Matt shrugged. "She just sounded worried to me."

Clara blinked. "Why didn't she call me directly, then?"

He shrugged again. "I don't know. She wanted to make sure I didn't tell you she called, though."

Her eyebrows pulled together in puzzlement. Linda always had an ulterior motive—what could she possibly want now? She was no longer responsible for Clara in any way, shape, or form; what could she possibly gain by checking up on her?

"She also wanted me to subtly ask you to call her," Matt added. "Or at least, I think she did. She was implying as much."

Clara sighed heavily. "She wants something."

"You don't know that," Matt countered. "She might actually be worried about you. I know what she's like, Clara, I do. She's still your aunt, though, I'm sure she loves you somewhere deep down."

Clara kept her eyes fixed on the road and didn't answer.

The rest of the car ride passed in silence. Occasionally, Matt would try to communicate with Clara by reaching over to take her hand. She let him, but she made sure never to meet his eyes when he glanced in her direction.

Her thoughts wandered towards her confrontation with Melody in the bookshop earlier that week. She couldn't get the eccentric woman out of her mind, or the offer she had made. Clara had her number saved into her mobile, but she had yet to call her. A large part of her was itching to find out what she knew about her mother's death. Could her initial assumptions about the accident be correct? Could it not have been an accident at all? Was she really insane?

Clara closed her eyes to keep herself away from that particular "what if" scenario. She was only just beginning to fully accept the idea that she was mentally ill; she couldn't undo all of her hard work now. She couldn't even entertain the thought.

She pulled out her phone, and scrolled through her contacts until she found Melody's name. Or River, as she had called herself.

Her thumb hovered over the name until she got up the courage to open up a text message. She could just send a text, Clara decided. What harm would a text do?

* * *

**Sent: 6:30 PM**

**Hello. This is Clara from the bookstore. You said you have some information regarding my mother's death? I'm willing to meet to discuss what you know. Would Monday, 3:30, at the Timberyard be convenient? Please let me know soon.**

**-CO**

* * *

The house was quiet when they pulled up into the driveway. The lights where off, and the only car that was parked out front belonged to Matt.

"Are you sure they wanted you to bring me here tonight?" Clara asked as the two of them headed towards the front door.

He took her hand and tugged her along faster. "Of course, c'mon."

Clara hesitated, but allowed him to pull her up the porch steps. He pulled out a key and expertly unlocked the door before waving her forward.

"Thanks," she said, and stepped inside.

Matt shut the door, and snatched her hand back up to drag her towards the kitchen. "C'mon."

"Matt, what are you—"

"Congratulations!"

Clara's heart nearly jumped out of her chest as she was stopped in her tracks by a cloud of confetti. The lights of the kitchen had been flipped back on and the small space was filled with people.

She couldn't help the beaming smile that erupted across her face as she took in the scene before her. Matt's family was there along with Jack, the Ponds, and Craig and Sophie with little Alfie in tow.

She glanced up; across the top of the window there was a large banner that read "free at last!"

David bounced forward to pull her into a hug. "We heard you regained control of your finances, and Matt insisted that we celebrate."

Clara pulled away to look back at Matt. "Really?"

He shrugged. "I know how stressed you've been. Thought it might be nice to have a little fun with some family and friends."

She grinned, and couldn't stop herself from jumping up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Thanks, Matt."

"Oi, none of that tonight, please," Jenny exclaimed as she stepped up to Clara with a glass of wine.

"Oh I don't know, Jen, I kind of like it." Jack winked as he took his turn at giving Clara a hug. "Good for you, Clair-bear."

Clara rolled her eyes at the nickname. "Thanks, Jack."

"How about we get some of this food out, ay?" Amy suggested.

Clara turned towards the counter lined with a wide variety of platters. "Oh, you lot didn't make this all yourselves, did you?"

"It was a team effort," Rose assured her as everyone went to grab a plate.

Dinner was anything but quiet. Clara couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so much, and the food was exquisite in her eyes. She couldn't imagine the amount of work it must have taken them all to prepare the meal.

Clara sat back for a moment to observe the people around her. They may have started out as simply being Matt's friends and family, but as time had worn on she had slowly come to believe that they were hers as well.

Clara smiled softly to herself. She couldn't really remember the last time she had felt like she had a secure group of friends. People she could count on, people she knew cared enough about her to see beyond her diagnosis. To them, she wasn't Clara Oswald, suffering schizophrenic. She wasn't a time bomb or an unwelcome responsibility. She was just Clara, and before now she'd never known just how much she used to take this feeling for granted—this feeling of belonging; of loving and being loved in return.

Matt reached under the table to intertwine their fingers. "Everything okay?"

She glanced up at him, and her smile widened. "Yeah."

He smiled back at her, and squeezed her hand.

It wasn't until long after they'd left that Clara saw the message.

* * *

**Received: 7:05 PM**

**That would be fine. Speak soon.**

**XxRiver**

* * *

During the week leading up to her meeting with River, Clara tried her best not to dwell on how the discussion might go. She tried her hardest to keep her mind from getting away from her with scenarios she knew could never happen. Or at least, scenarios she hoped could never happen. She still didn't know much about this woman. River could end up being a crazed murderer for all Clara knew.

She was a half hour early to the coffee shop that Monday, and couldn't keep her leg from bouncing the entire time she waited. What did River know? What could she possibly know about her mother's death? More importantly, how did she know? How did she find Clara?

"Clara?"

She nearly choked on her coffee as River's voice came from behind her.

"Sorry," she purred, "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"Oh no, it's alright," Clara sputtered between coughs. She waved a hand across the table. "Please."

River sat across from her, and folded her hands over the table. "I suppose you have a lot of questions for me."

Clara nodded as she recovered. "Starting with—"

"How did I know to find you?" River smirked. "I used to work as a detective. I remembered your mother's case after you told me your name in the department store. I told you that you looked familiar."

Clara blinked, taken back by her confession. "Oh."

She chuckled. "Not what you were expecting?"

"Well…I don't know. I'm not sure what I was expecting, honestly." Clara smiled tentatively at the woman across from her, and gnawed on her lip. "So…"

"It wasn't an accident," River stated.

Clara cocked her head. "What makes you think that? Every other detective I ever spoke to assured me that it was."

She sighed. "They weren't allowed to tell you anything otherwise, Clara…" River trailed off, and abruptly leaned forward. "Clara, have you ever heard of a group called the Silence?"

Clara's brow scrunched together. "No."

"Are you sure? You never overheard your parents talking about them?"

Shock overtook Clara, and she shoved herself away from River in her surprise. "What?"

River pulled out a thick manila envelope. "Your parents were two high ranking members of a terrorist group called the Silence. They both defected shortly after your mother found out she was pregnant with you. They've been in witness protection ever since." She handed Clara a couple of documents with her parent's photos attached.

Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at the names on the documents. "Hold on…" The names read Margaret and Evan Rotner.

"Their names had to be changed when they defected."

Clara stared with her mouth hanging open slightly. "How did I never discover this?"

"It was decided that you would never be allowed to know." River's eyes rested on her mother's picture. "The agent in charge of your case said your parents were adamant that you needed to have a life that was as normal as possible."

"What about the rest of my family?" Clara demanded. "My Aunt, my Gran?"

"Your Aunt is a handler assigned to you and your parents, but your Gran is really your Gran. Her identity had to be altered, but she really is related to you."

Clara stared down at the documents in her hands. "How can that be possible?"

River reached out to lay a hand on her arm. "I know it's a lot to take in, but I have more."

Clara's throat had gone tight under the weight of the information she'd just obtained. "What?" She rasped, and tried to clear her throat.

"I've been tracking the man who ordered your mother's murder. I don't know who he is just yet, but I'm close…" She took both of Clara's hands into her own. "I can help you find him, Clara. I can help you get the answers you've been searching for."

Clara swallowed hard. "At what cost?"

River's eyes softened slightly. "No cost. I'm a friend, Clara. I remember your parents. They used to meet with me and my partner to verify any intel we could gather on the silence. Your mum was lovely, Clara, and your dad isn't half as bad as you think he is."

Clara stiffened at the mention of her father. "Then why hasn't he ever said anything to me about all of this? Why did he never come clean?"

River sighed, and dropped her hands. "He wanted to, after your mum died, but the agency convinced him that it was too dangerous. That's why he never visited you in the asylum. He knew that if he went to see you, he would break."

Clara snorted. "So, what, he was just protecting me? Is that why he wouldn't let me come back home? Why he's involved with another family? All to protect me?"

She hated how bitter she sounded. Clara had honestly convinced herself that she was coming to terms with the relationship between her father and herself. Hadn't she just been writing in her journal today about how she was beginning to forgive him?

Clara wanted to forgive him, she really did. Especially with this new information River was providing. However, part of her still doubted this woman's credibility, and part of her was convinced that she would never forgive him no matter what. Even if what she was being told turned out to be true, Clara knew there would always be a piece of her that would never be able to forgive her father for abandoning her.

"I know it sounds hard to believe," River admitted, lowering her voice so only Clara would be able to hear. "But yes, everything your parents did was to protect you. Even now, everything Dave is doing is to protect you. He had to stay away when you were sent to the asylum because we found intel that his cover may have been blown. He had to move so the Silence wouldn't find him. He had to create a new life for himself, Clara, one that you couldn't be a part of."

Clara raised her eyebrows. "Then why did he and Linda attempt to convince me to move back in with him?"

River sighed. "That was because of Matt."

Clara sucked in her cheeks, and waited for more of an explanation.

River leaned forward again. "No one expected you to meet someone like him. He's a journalist, Clara; he's good at uncovering the truth. We've been tracking him ever since he came into contact with your therapist. He's a danger to you and your father. If he discovers too much, if the Silence find you or him…it would be bad for everyone."

She swallowed. "They would kill him, wouldn't they?"

"Or worse; it would depend upon how easily he gave up how much he knew." River's voice had dropped down an octave, and her eyes seemed to freeze even more with her words.

Clara shivered. "I still don't understand why you're telling me any of this."

"Because you've been wronged, Clara," she said quietly. "You've suffered more than you were ever meant to because of all of this. If your mother was here, she would have told you. She wouldn't have allowed anyone to convince you that you were mentally ill."

Clara's eyes shot down to where her hands rested on her lap. She hated those words. More specifically, she hated the way they were pronounced. She wouldn't mind the label so much if people wouldn't say it with so much pity in their voices. Clara didn't want their pity, she didn't need it.

"So…what do I do now? I mean, how will you help me find out what happened to her?" Clara's eyes came to rest on her mother's picture again. Ellie…Margaret, looked much younger in the photo. She wasn't smiling, and Clara hated that she wasn't smiling. She looked healthy enough, but if Clara looked close enough she could see the deep circles under her eyes and the grease in her hair. She looked like a woman on the run, really, there was no denying it.

"I'll contact you whenever I have something. Until then you need to go on like you never met me, and you never heard any of this. You cannot tell Matt, do you understand?" River leveled a firm stare at Clara.

She nodded. "He would think I was off my meds, anyway."

River stood, and extended her hand. "It was nice to meet you, Clara Oswald."

With only a moment of hesitation, Clara shook her hand. "Likewise, River Song."

* * *

The apartment was filled with sound by the time Clara got back.

"I'm home!" She yelled over the blasting stereo and the clanging of pots and pans.

There was a loud crash, a bit of scuffling, and then Matt stuck his head into the kitchen doorway. "Hello! You weren't supposed to be home yet."

"Got off early," Clara lied as she tossed her keys into the dish by the front door.

Matt rushed over to her, and all but pushed her towards the study. "Yes, well, you can't be here yet."

"Oi, Matt!" she complained as he pushed her through the door and slammed it shut.

He opened it a second later to give her a proper kiss. "Sorry, gotta dash. Just stay in here for a bit, yeah?"

He slammed the doors shut again.

Clara crossed her arms and let out an annoyed huff. She spun around on her heel to face the room behind her, and quickly marched over to settle into her chair.

She picked up a book from a nearby table, and settled in to wait.

It was a little over an hour before he reopened the door.

"About time," Clara half-teased.

Matt chuckled, and quickly clapped his hands over her eyes.

"Oi!" Clara protested

"It's my surprise," he explained, and nudged her forward. "I won't let you fall."

She shivered when his breath tickled the back of her head, and allowed him to lead her through the flat to the kitchen. Something smelled amazing, and Clara instinctively leaned in to try to ascertain exactly what it was she was sensing. It had to be some kind of pastry, she was certain. The scent was sweet, and reminded her of fresh bread.

Matt took his hands away from her eyes. "Surprise!"

Clara blinked a little as her eyes adjusted to the light, and smiled at the scene before her. The table was set with a bouquet of white roses and two soufflés.

"What's all this?"

"I got the promotion, so I wanted to splurge a little." Matt grabbed her hand and gently pulled her towards the table.

Clara's smile widened even more until she was positively beaming at him. "You got the promotion? That's wonderful, Matt!" She jumped up to through her arms around his neck in a celebratory hug.

He leaned down into her hug, and picked her up just enough that her toes came off the floor. "No more kittens stuck in trees for me. Starting next week, Sharon's putting me on a proper story."

"I told you that you would get it," Clara said as the two of them parted so they could sit down.

Matt grinned. "Remind me never to doubt you again."

She laughed, and picked up her spoon. "Where did you get the recipe for the soufflés?"

He swallowed down a small bit, and coughed a little. "Your uh, your aunt gave it to me. It was your mum's recipe."

Clara paused, and stared down at the little pastry. Her meeting with River was still fresh in her mind, and if she closed her eyes she could still see the photo of her mother.

She pulled in a shaky breath, and forced herself to give him an appreciative look. "Then I'm sure they're lovely."

Matt grinned. "Well don't take my word for it, try some."

Clara tentatively stuck her spoon into the pastry, and took a small bite.

Her eyes fell shut as the flavors exploded in her mouth. It was exactly how she always remembered it—perfectly creamy and light.

"It's perfect," she said as she swallowed down her bite.

Matt's grin turned into a full mega-watt smile. "I was hoping you would think so."

The two of them passed the rest of the meal talking about trivial things. Clara purposefully tried to steer the conversation away from anything that reminded her of the information she had been presented with earlier that day, because River was right. Matt finding out about anything she'd discovered today would only result in two things: he'd either accuse her of being off her meds, and she would be putting him in danger.

That being said, she didn't want to have to lie to him any more than was absolutely necessary. So they talked about the weather and what Rory and Amy were up to, and of course, Matt's promotion.

It wasn't until later that night, after Matt was sound asleep, that Clara allowed herself to feel guilty.

She watched his chest rise and fall as the seconds ticked by. His face was so innocent and peaceful looking when he slept—he looked twenty years younger.

Clara swallowed as the guilt made her stomach curl in knots, and snuggled closer to him.

She sighed, and forced herself to close her eyes.


	23. Chapter 23: Anniversary

**Hello! I'm going to keep this short and sweet: many thanks go out to TheFrenchShore, ThePurpleFrockCoat, and Sassywriterchick for your lovely reviews. I hope this chapter is just as enjoyable. :) Also, huge thank you goes out to Melt into the Air, for being amazing.**

* * *

**Chapter 22: Anniversary.**

Matt stared out at the warehouse through his car window.

He hadn't been here since her death. He'd purposefully avoided ever coming to this side of town. He wasn't even really sure what had brought him here today. On this day of all days.

Today was June 7, 2015. It was also the one year anniversary of Clara's death.

Matt gingerly stepped out of his car, slammed its door shut, and headed towards the warehouse. It had been abandoned long before Clara had ever come there, but now it felt even more ominous in its emptiness. It was almost as though the events from the previous year had permanently embedded themselves into the very air surrounding the building.

Matt easily found an unlocked door and ducked inside.

His footsteps echoed off the walls as he walked further into the building. It was a large, single room. The ceiling was so far above his head that in the dim light, Matt could only barely make out the rafters of the place.

As he listened to his shaky breath echo with his footsteps, Matt approached the place where Clara had been murdered.

He refused to believe that Clara—his Clara—had committed suicide at this point. If anything, River's testimony to the events of this day one year ago pointed towards coercion. Clara may have pulled the trigger, but Matt could never believe that it was by her own free will.

He stopped in the very center of the warehouse and glanced up at the ceiling. He wasn't really sure what he was looking for; a sign, a clue, something—anything that would lead him to the truth.

"Clara?" He whispered.

His voice echoed back at him, and somewhere far above a bird rustled in its nest, but other than that the only answer he received was silence.

"I'll find the truth, Clara," he vowed.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this, Matt?"

He sighed. "Yes, Jack."

"Okay mate, but be careful."

Matt shifted so he could hold the phone up to his ear in a more comfortable position. "I will…" He paused. "How are they?"

It was Jack's turn to sigh. "They're still pissed at you, man. I wouldn't come 'round for a few more weeks. Or months."

Matt gnawed on his lips. "Are you still angry, too?"

Jack was quiet for a moment. "I gotta go, Matt. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

He closed his eyes. "Okay." He quickly hung up the phone and hopped out of his car.

Matt was going in to ask Dave a few questions, and he was anything but relaxed about it. Some instinct told him that Clara's father had a key role in this story, and the journalist part of him urged him to follow his instincts.

River had said Clara was shot by someone he knew. And while he couldn't bring himself to believe that Dave—despite his callous attitude towards Clara—would ever murder his own daughter; he couldn't shake the idea that he might know something.

Matt paused at the front door before knocking.

The door opened with a slight squeak, and Matt found himself face-to-face with a man he'd hoped he would never have to see again.

"John," Dave greeted him stiffly. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know if anyone has informed you, but your daughter's case has been reopened." Matt's whole body was rigid. Every one of his nerves were steeled for what Dave might say.

"They have," the man answered him simply. There was barely any inflection in his voice.

"I just had a few questions for you." Matt's eyes flickered beyond Dave towards the inside of his home. "May I come in?"

The two men stared each other down for a long moment, before Dave released the door from his grip to cross his arms. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Matt raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Why not?"

"I don't have anything to contribute to your investigation, and Sheryl will be home soon. I think we would both benefit from her never knowing you stopped by."

Matt sucked in his cheeks with frustration. "This will only take a moment."

Dave gave him a slight, grim smile and shook his head. "Go home, John."

Matt smacked his hand against the front door as Dave went to shut it. "Mr. Oswald, I'm begging you. All I need is five minutes."

Clara's father shook his head, and although he tried to hide it, Matt could see the pity in the other man's eyes. "Don't come here again."

"Dave—"

"My daughter is dead, John," Dave growled, and glared at him. "I don't need you coming by here to remind me of that."

Matt blinked, and shuffled back involuntarily. He hadn't expected to get such a forceful reaction out of Dave Oswald.

The man sighed tiredly, and his shoulders slumped. "I don't care how the police think it happened. Whether it was suicide or murder, it doesn't change the fact that she's dead."

Matt continued to stare at him as he moved to shut the door. "Goodbye, Matt."

* * *

_"So this is the last one?"_

_"Yes, I think after this I'll have enough to base the story on."_

Matt bit back his regret. He's listening to the last tape he ever recorded of her for his novel. The date was set at October 16, 2013, just days before he asked her to marry him.

He wished he had recorded more, he wished he had suggested that they keep up the exercise—even if it was for nothing else rather than the sake of tradition.

_"Have you had a chance to think up your word?"_

He smiled a little when her giggle came bubbling through his ancient speakers. Her laugh was still his favorite sound, and there had been more than one occasion where he would play a tape over more than once just to listen to it.

_"One word to summarize my entire life?"_ She paused, and he could almost remember the expression on her face. Almost, but not quite. It's been too long since he last saw her face to remember the exact way she looked. _"I'm working on it."_

Matt glanced down at the outline he'd prepared for this chapter. It was the last one, and he'd been finding it rather difficult to get himself to write it. Her story had been his obsession for so long that he wasn't quite sure what he was going to do with himself once it was over.

His fingers quickly began typing as the tape played in the background. He'd already played it enough that he had memorized how the session went.

Matt was about halfway down his third page when he was startled by someone buzzing at the door.

He paused in his typing, and stopped the tape. The visitor buzzed again, so he stood to see who it could be.

"Yeah?" he called.

"Matt, it's me, David," his dad's voice filtered through the speaker system.

A flutter of nerves bounced in his stomach. The only reason his Dad would show up here unannounced without Rose in tow would be to yell at him. "Come on up."

He buzzed David in, and waited nervously with his door open.

Matt was a little surprised when his Dad greeted him with a hug rather than a scolding.

"How are you?" David asked.

"Better," Matt said carefully. "Come on in."

He and David ended up sitting opposite of each other in his lounge. Although his Dad had presented himself with benevolence, Matt could see the anger roiling within him just beneath the surface. David had always been protective of the women in their family, especially Rose, and Matt knew he had hurt both of them badly when he lied to drive them away.

He did feel a certain amount of guilt over his actions, but he had needed some time alone, and Matt knew that the only way he could get that was to lie.

"Care for a drink?" Matt asked after several minutes of silence had passed.

"No, thank you, I'm fine." David waved him off.

Matt pursed his lips. "Um, if you don't mind me asking…why are you here?" He knew full well why David had come, but part of him hoped he was wrong.

"Your mum wanted me to come check up on you." He smiled a little. "I know she's angry with you right now, but she still worries."

Matt sighed, and hung his head. "I know she does."

"You really hurt her, Matt, but I'm sure you know that." His dad's voice had taken a harder edge to it.

Matt knew he needed to be extremely careful with his words at this point. By the stiffness in David's shoulders and the hardness in his expression, he knew his Dad had far surpassed simple anger. Rose hadn't nicknamed him 'the Oncoming Storm' for nothing.

"I do," he answered quietly. "And I'm sorry."

"But…" David prompted him.

Matt let his hands clap together. "But, I needed some time without everyone hovering about."

He watched as understanding warred with anger across David's face. "I see."

Matt kept his eyes lowered as the seconds ticked by.

"John, look at me."

He gulped, but forced himself to raise his eyes to David's.

Matt had to use every ounce of self-control he possessed to keep himself from flinching back when he met his Dad's gaze. David's eyes were dark and unforgiving, exactly the expression Matt had hoped he would never see directed at him. He had seen his Dad angry, of course. He had seen the same expression he saw now directed at people before, but never him, and seeing it now made Matt want to crawl away to hide under a nice large boulder.

Ever since David and Rose had so kindly adopted him, all Matt had wanted to do was make sure he was worthy of their generosity. He had vowed long ago that he would do everything within his power to do right by them, but he could see now that he had crossed a line. A line he had always said he would never allow himself to break.

And he knew it wasn't just because of this one transgression. It was built up on all of the times he'd hurt his family since losing Clara.

"I'm sorry," Matt whispered.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," David said, and Matt shivered at the monotone in his voice. This was the Oncoming Storm at his most dangerous.

He fidgeted, and cast his eyes downward. "I know."

"Look at me," David commanded through his teeth.

Matt forced his eyes back up, and waited.

"You screwed up," David said flatly. "You know you screwed up. Now what are you going to do about it?"

Matt gulped. "Apologize to Rose and Jenny."

David nodded. "Good answer." He relaxed back into his chair, and Matt had to keep himself from letting out a sigh of relief when the storm passed out of his eyes. "Now then! What do you have to drink around here, Johnny Boy?"

* * *

Matt all but kicked the doors of the police precinct down in his hurry to find Detective Smith. "Where's Detective Smith?" he demanded, smacking his hands onto the receptionist's desk as he did so.

The poor woman behind the desk jumped with surprise. "In her office, sir, but you can't go—hey!"

He was halfway through to Detective Smith's office when the woman herself stepped into the room. She put her hands up in an attempt to slow down his furious march. "Mr. Smith, before you say anything, please allow me to explain."

Matt stopped in his tracks, but the anger boiling beneath his skin only increased. "How could you just let her go? She was your only lead!"

"We couldn't charge her with anything, Mr. Smith; we had to let Miss Song go." She sighed. "I'm every bit as angry as you are, believe me, but we aren't done yet. She gave us some valuable information that might lead us to a new suspect."

"Who?" Matt growled, his chest still tight with the anger he was trying to control.

She bit her lip. "Mr. Smith—"

"Who?" he demanded.

"I'm not at liberty to say." A look of remorse passed over the police detective's features.

Matt pulled in a deep breath to keep his frustration down. "Why not?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," she repeated. "I promise I'll tell you what I can when I can. Until then you're just going to have to be patient."

He clenched his fists at his sides, but forced himself to relax. Matt pulled in another deep breath, and focused his gaze back on Detective Smith. "Thank you."

She nodded as he turned and swiftly left the station.

As soon as Matt was out of the building he pulled out his mobile and dialed Jack's number. He knew his best friend was still irritated with him for his recent behavior, but maybe Matt would be able to do something productive today by changing that.

"Hi this is Jack Harkness; I'm not here right now but leave a message."

Matt sighed. "Jack, this is Matt. Listen mate, I was hoping we'd be able to meet soon. I know I've made a right ass of myself lately, but I was hoping we could patch this up…anyway, call me back, yeah? Okay, thanks, bye."

He hung up and tucked the phone back into his pocket.

Matt felt the first drops of rain hit his face, and glanced up at the clouds. He closed his eyes against the drops that were falling on his face, and let out a slow breath. He hadn't noticed before just how tired he was. He hadn't been sleeping well.

The nightmares had narrowed down to one consistent dream by now. He was in that bloody warehouse, standing at the door while the scene unfolded in front of him. Clara was in the center, her eyes sparking with delight at the sight of him.

She would smile, and call for him to come closer.

"Clara, watch out!" he would cry as a shadowy figure would step out from behind her, its twisted arms reaching around her waist to yank her into darkness from which it came.

She would scream. "Matt!"

"Clara!"

His eyes would fly open, and he would sit straight up. His heart would be pounding and his breathing would be labored. He'd be sweating head to toe and shaking. It was, least of all to say, unpleasant.

"Matt?"

Matt's heart stopped, and his eyes flew open. His head snapped down to look at where the voice had come from, and he felt a strange urge to laugh when River's eyes met his.

"Why are you still here?"

River recoiled against the hostility roiling off of him. "They just let me out. I was sure you would come to see why."

"So you decided to stick around to chat?" His tone was biting.

Her eyes took on a sad light. "I have information for you."

He snorted and tried to push past her. "There's nothing you can tell me that the police won't."

"Is that so?" Her voice rose with irritation. "Did they tell you who their latest suspect is? Or why they suspect this person was involved?"

Matt paused mid-step, and sighed heavily; he closed his eyes but turned around. "Okay. You win."

River's lips curved upwards into her trademark smirk. "I knew I would."

He let out an angry puff of breath. "I don't have time for games, River."

She grabbed his arm. "Then follow me."

He yanked his arm out of her grasp, but followed her away from the precinct. She led him down the street towards a park. Matt was weary of what game she was playing, but allowed himself to be led down one of the park paths towards a relatively secluded bench.

River sat down right in the middle of the bench. "Join me?"

"I'll stand," he retorted.

She shrugged. "Suit yourself." She slid over to one side of the bench and crossed her legs. "But you might not like what I have to tell you."

He groaned with frustration. "Just get on with it, River."

"Melody," she corrected.

"Whatever," he said.

She sighed heavily, and folded her hands on her top knee. "Matt, have you ever heard of Torchwood?"

He blinked. "Torchwood? I think so, I ran across a small article on it. It was a special agency founded with the sole purpose of fighting terrorism if I'm not mistaken."

She nodded. "And it's been effective for years. The usefulness behind the agency is that it doesn't exist, not to the rest of the world anyway. There was a bit of coverage on it when it was first founded, but ever since then it's been systematically erased from the database."

Matt crossed his arms. "What does this have to do with the police's new suspect?"

River bit her lip. "Matt, their new suspect is a Torchwood agent."

He let out a small, sardonic laugh. "What game are you playing?"

She let out a frustrated breath. "Once trained, agents are sent out to live as normal citizens. This one happened to be given an assignment while on call—Clara. Her family is very important against a particularly powerful terrorist group known as the Silence."

Matt doubled over laughing. "You expect me to believe this? Who was the agent, then?"

River stood and reached a hand out towards him. "Matt—"

"No." He stepped away from her. "I don't believe you. What kind of game do you think you're playing at? Clara was sick, River, and here you are trying to make a joke of her?" He shook his head. "No, I don't believe you."

A horrified look passed over River's face. "John, I—"

Matt held up a finger. "No." He sighed, and spun away from her. "I don't want to hear from you, River, unless you have valid information to confess to the police. Until then, stay away from me."

"Matthew—"

"Goodbye, River," he said firmly, and swiftly walked away from her.

* * *

Matt ended his day sitting in front of his typewriter. The last chapter was nearly complete, he only needed to add another page or two more, and then he would be on to the epilogue. Or the afterword, he hadn't quite decided yet.

Matt paused in his typing, and read back over what he had written.

_I don't know where I am. I don't know where I am, or where I'm going. I squinted against the bright sun overhead as I drove. I had to admit that I was lost at this point._

_That's when I spotted it._

_The warehouse loomed overhead just off of the road. It was tucked far enough away, and this road was so deserted, that I was sure no one would find me. Not for a long while at least._

_This was what I needed to do._

_"It's like falling asleep," the memory of Mrs. Robinson's voice whispered in my ear, and I shivered. Could I really do it?_

_I swallowed and parked in front of the building._

Matt continued to read through the rest of the chapter, his pen in hand, ready to mark any obvious errors. Once he had finished editing, he poised his fingers over the keys to finish the chapter.

He paused, and the silence that surrounded him left him with an eerie chill. He wasn't sure if he could do this. Once he was finished, Matt knew all that was left would be to send the manuscript off. Could he handle letting someone else read this story? This particular story that was, in all honesty, not his to share?

Matt was thrown back to that first meeting with Clara in their coffee shop. She had been so trusting. He hadn't expected her to show up at all, and he certainly hadn't expected her to answer his questions so fully that first session. She had kept several things to herself at first, of course, but he couldn't help but feel awed at her bravery for meeting with him at all.

He knew all too well how private most people with a mental disorder were about their diagnosis. His mum had always made him swear up and down never to tell anyone about her condition unless it was absolutely necessary, and so had Clara. Clara in particular had always seemed rather embarrassed about her condition, and that baffled Matt. To him, her diagnosis changed nothing. She was just Clara—so brave and kind, funny and smart. Perfect, exactly what he needed…and that person still existed even when she was at her worst. Even when she was in the middle of an episode and he could barely understand what was coming out of her mouth. Underneath it all, she was still Clara. She was still the amazing and beautiful woman he loved. How could anyone be so distracted by her diagnosis that they couldn't see that?

He had to step away for a moment.

Matt walked over to his stereo, and pressed play. He hadn't allowed music to play in his home ever since Clara had died. He knew the CD that was in the stereo, and it was the main cause for the ban. He hadn't been able to bear to hear the song that would play over the speakers, and he wasn't entirely sure he would be able to now, but it would help him get through the end of his novel.

He closed his eyes as the first notes of "Birdy" played over the speakers.

A small smile found its way to his lips as he headed for the kitchen. He had missed music.

Matt pulled out all of the ingredients he would need to make tea, and reached for a package of Jammie Dodgers as he sat down at the kitchen table. The kettle was on the stove; he needed time to think.

He sat quietly for a long time.

Matt was startled by the sound of his mobile ringing.

He fumbled for the device before answering. "Hello?"

"Hey Matt, I got your message," Jack's voice came over the line.

"Oh, yeah, hey…" Matt trailed off, unsure of himself. He wanted to patch things up with Jack more than anything, but at the moment, he was at a loss as to how.

"Just…apologize to your family, yeah? And, should you ever want space again, just tell us man. You didn't have to shove us away the way you did. I'm sure Jen and Rose would have respected your space, and David and I would have helped you if they didn't." Jack's voice still had a hurt note in it, and Matt couldn't blame him.

He let out a slow breath as his chest began to relax. "Yeah, will do Jack…I'm sorry, mate, I really am."

"I know," Jack said.

The two of them were quiet for a long time.

"So, want me to swing by next Friday? We could go out and have some fun."

Matt tipped his head back. "Please tell me you're not thinking of that little dive bar you took me to last time."

Jack laughed. "The very same. C'mon, Smithy, it'll be fun."

Matt chuckled. "Let me check my work schedule, but I'd love to."

"Great, let me know soon."

"Right, have a good night, Harkness."

"You too, Smith." Jack chuckled as he hung up.

Matt smiled to himself as he hung up. He would never allow himself to take a friend like Jack for granted again. He knew it was rare to find a friend who would forgive so easily, especially the kind of behavior Matt had been exhibiting lately. Most, he knew, would be fed up with it by now. Most would have walked away.

He twirled the phone around in his hand, debating whether or not he should make the call.

He gave in, and dialed her number.

Matt's heart sank when his call went straight to voicemail, but he didn't hang up.

"Hi, you've reached Jenny Tyler. Please leave me your name and number, and I'll get back to you as soon as I possibly can. Thank you!"

Matt swallowed. "Hey Jen, it's Matt…I, um, I was just wondering if we could speak soon? I know you're busy, but if we could meet somewhere I would like to work this all out…please, at least call me back? Thanks Jen, bye."

He hung up the phone, and took another bite of his Jammie Dodger.

He all but jumped out of his chair when the tea kettle screamed, and quickly scrambled over to the stove to take it off.

Matt allowed himself to be lost in the familiar ritual of preparing tea, letting his mind wander with the sound of "Poison and Wine" playing in the background.

His mind eventually drifted to some of the earliest memories he had of Clara. She reminded him a little of his mother, in all truth. She had the same light in her eyes his mother used to have in all of her early photos.

Matt carried his mug of tea up to his bedroom. He set his mug down on his nightstand and opened a drawer beneath it. Inside, he kept several odds and ends. Clara's necklace resided in there, along with her journal. And, beneath her journal, Matt had a small collection of photos. Most of them were of Clara. When he had been taken from Paul and placed into foster care, a lot of the old pictures Matt had owned of his mum had gotten lost. He did, however, still have a small handful.

He pulled out his favorite picture of his mum. She was probably in her early twenties, with long glossy hair the same color as Matt's and a wide smile. She was standing on a beach, her hair flying in the wind and her arm wrapped around one of her friends. They were both doubled over with laughter, and Matt couldn't help but smile back at the laugh lines around her eyes.

But it's that smile that always gets him. People used to tell him that when he smiled, he looked like May.

Matt swallowed down a lump in his throat, besides Clara, his mum had the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen. She looked absolutely carefree—her face lighting up with such a blinding light that, if he didn't know better, Matt wouldn't have believed could ever be extinguished.

He sighed, and looked through the rest of the pictures from his drawer.

He smiled as a few memories started to come back to him. Most of the pictures he had of his mum were from long before he was born, but he could remember when most of Clara's pictures had been taken.

Matt sucked in a deep breath, and put the pictures back into the drawer. He gingerly picked up Clara's journal, and began to thumb through the pages. He'd already read it cover to cover with the hope that she had written down some clue that would lead him to her killer.

He sighed, and rubbed a thumb over her familiar handwriting. At this point, Matt was seriously starting to doubt that there _was_ a killer. It sounded to him like one of River's games gone wrong. If anyone had killed his Clara, it would have been her. She had already admitted to filling Clara's head with a story that matched up with her belief that her mother's death hadn't been an accident. He even had proof that she was with Clara the day she died on the tape his wife had left him.

Did that mean River pulled the trigger? Or did she just push Clara to the brink?

Either way, Matt was beginning to wonder if the circumstances surrounding Clara's death were purely down to River. She and Matt had a long and unhealthy history, and it wasn't at all implausible to say that this was just River's attempt to get Clara out of the way. One way or the other.

River was many things, but of everything she might be, she was most certainly a liar. Was it too much of a stretch to say she was a killer too?

Matt didn't think so.

He let out a deep breath, and went to carefully place Clara's journal back where it belonged when something caught his eye. It was a simple sentence in the middle of the page, about halfway down from the top.

_I love you, Matthew Smith, and I hope you know that._

Matt swallowed thickly, and felt a tiny, fond smile grace his lips. A warm spark moved through his chest to warm his heart.

"I love you too, Clara Smith," he whispered, for once delighted that he could use his last name in place of hers, "you impossible girl."

He delicately closed her journal over his thumb, and carefully set it back in its place. He lovingly allowed his hand to trace the front cover, and sat up.

Matt closed the drawer gently, and took a sip of his tea.

With a tremendous breath for courage, he stood.

The stereo was still playing his CD as Matt headed back downstairs. He wasn't sure what song was playing at this point—his mind was entirely focused on getting to his study. He knew what he wanted to write. He knew what he had to say.

Matt stepped into his study and sat down behind his desk; he took one more sip of his tea before setting it off to the side.

Matt sighed softly, and put a fresh sheet of paper into his typewriter. He knew exactly what he wanted to end this story with. A letter.

_Afterword by Matthew Smith._

_Clara Oswald—Oswin—was the love of my life, of that I have no doubt. Was she a complete nutter? Absolutely, but not in the way you're thinking. Clara had a love for life. She found joy in the simplest things; even at her darkest she was always brave, always kind, always Clara._

_I think there is a horrible stigmata that we, as a society, have attached to mental illness. There's an image most of us have stuck in our minds, and that's what we're presented with onscreen. Physically, we expect mental patients to suffer some kind of deformity. We equate them to resemble many of the homeless people we've seen on the streets—in need of a bath, a shave, missing a few teeth, etcetera. I myself was guilty of this when I first met Clara. My wife was one of the most beautiful women on the planet—she looked nothing like this image._

_We expect these people to be dangerous; we fear them because we have been taught to fear them. We have been taught that anyone labelled as unstable is then, by default, "dangerous" and should be avoided. I must admit that this is true in some extreme cases, but a vast majority of those diagnosed live relatively normal lives._

_My Clara was incredibly brave for giving me permission to write her story. A story that, frankly, I have no business sharing without her here to share it with me._

_We, all of us, may never be able to fully overcome this self-taught fear for what is different or unknown, but hope is not lost. I, for one, believe in a future where mental illness is not something we hide in the corners of our society. I believe in the idea that, one day, the world will be able to accept this particular group of people for what they are: people._

_I may never know how my wife actually died. I may never discover whether her death was of her own making or if someone else pulled the trigger. I may never know what was going through her head, and I'm not wholly convinced that I ever did know. What I do know, is that she will live on. Clara's human spirit will be immortalized by those who loved her personally, and now she will live on in the hearts and minds of all of you._

_Clara would have wanted it this way._

Matt pulled the paper out of the typewriter, and read over what he had written. The afterward was short—barely filling up a page, but it was perfect. He wouldn't change a word.

Matt opened the bottom drawer of his desk, and gingerly set the paper facedown onto the pile that made up his novel. He picked up the packet, and shuffled the papers so they all would lay straight. He laid the manuscript down so the first chapter was facing up, and placed a blank sheet overtop.

He pulled out a pen, and concentrated. This was the most important part of the entire writing process. He needed to pick a title.

Matt closed his eyes, and sat back in his chair.

This was Clara's story, so the name needed to be something she would approve of. It needed to fit the content of the novel, it needed to say everything the manuscript would later say over the course of three hundred some odd pages. It had to be the exact message Matt wanted to send to his readers. It had to be perfect.

Matt smiled slightly when that thought led him to memories of Clara. She was always a bit of a perfectionist; Matt could even recall himself calling her a bossy control freak at one point. She would never forgive him if this name didn't suite her.

Matt then thought back to various bits and pieces he'd read in her journal. What title could be better than something Clara herself had written?

And that's when it came to him, the perfect title.

Matt's smile returned, and he pressed his pen to the paper.

_One May Face a World of Demons, written by Matthew Smith._

_For my lovely wife, Clara. Peaceful dreams, sweetheart._

Matt set the pen down, and stood up from his desk.

"I love you, Clara," he whispered before he finished off his tea, and headed off to bed.

Matt slept free of nightmares.


	24. Chapter 24: Surprise

**Hello everyone! I know it was a long wait, but this chapter is worth it, I promise. :) Many thanks go out to my ever lovely reviewers: Jack's Wayward Son, Ernold Same, sassywriterchick, TheFrenchShore, and Angela Shiroe for all of your kind words.**

* * *

**Chapter 23: Surprise.**

Life seemed to pass all at once after Clara's first meeting with River. She could have sworn it was only June when she went to sleep, and now, all of a sudden, it was October.

When had that happened?

That summer was a summer of firsts for Clara. Matt had decided she needed to know at least the basics of driving, so the two of them spent countless hours going round and round in empty lots around town. The first time she got behind the wheel had been interesting to say the least—she'd nearly managed to run the two of them through the side of a building on her first turn. After several nights of practice, however, Clara had finally gotten the hang of it.

But that wasn't the only first she experienced.

Clara had never believed she would say the words "I love you" to anyone. Truly, she'd never entertained the idea that anyone would stick by her long enough for her to develop that sentiment, and she had certainly never dared to hope anyone would say that particular phrase to her.

The words had come out of the blue on a rather mundane Saturday morning. And they didn't come from her.

Clara had just finished off her toast when Matt walked in the kitchen.

"Good morning!" He crowed as he spun towards the extra stack of toast she'd prepared.

She giggled when he stuffed one in his mouth, and grabbed two more. "Good morning."

Matt tried to smile around his toast, and sat down beside her. "What's this?" He swept a hand over the newspaper she was holding.

"This," she said, and flicked the ends of the paper, "is your latest article: "Our Travels Amongst the Stars: Where We've Gone."" She grinned. "Pretty interesting stuff."

He raised his eyebrows. "You think so?"

She nodded. "I mean, space travel?" She winked at him. "So you."

Matt's lips pulled up into a half-smile, and he reached out to take her hand. "I'm glad you like it."

Clara smiled back, and stood to take her breakfast dishes to the sink. "I asked Craig if we could start selling your papers in the shop. He's all for it. We should start getting copies in by next week." She turned around, and jumped. "Gah."

He was standing right behind her. "Sorry." He chuckled.

She lightly smacked him in the arm. "Don't scare me like that."

"Sorry," Matt said again, and laughed when she playfully continued to attack him. "I surrender."

Clara patted his cheek as she passed him. "So, what's on the agenda today?"

He joined her on the couch, and shrugged. "It's up to you."

She leaned into him, and laid her head against his shoulder. She sighed contentedly as she closed her eyes. "This is good."

Matt chuckled, and pulled her in closer. "I'll just put on the telly then, shall I?"

She nodded against his chest, and opened her eyes as the television came to life.

The two of them had been quiet for a long time when the words finally came, and they were so quiet that Clara wasn't sure if she'd heard him correctly at first.

"I love you," he murmured.

Clara stiffened, and looked up from her place on his lap. He was staring at the television screen, but looked down to face her.

She swallowed, and reached out for his hand.

"I love you, too," she said.

* * *

**Present Day.**

"Clara!" Matt called from the study. "Are you ready?"

"Coming!" She called back, and hurried down the stairs.

"Here's your tea," Matt said as he handed her a steaming mug.

She took it gratefully and sat down in her chair, taking a sip. "Mm, lovely."

He grinned, and pulled out a fresh tape to pop into his recorder. "This is the last session we need to do."

Clara raised her eyebrows in surprise as he started the recorder. "This is the last one?"

He nodded. "Yes, I think after this I'll have enough to base the story on."

"Wow," Clara murmured.

Matt leaned forward onto his elbows. "Have you had a chance to think up your word?"

Clara giggled a little, and bit her lip. "One word to summarize my entire life?" She paused, and her face scrunched up with concentration before she gave up. "I'm working on it."

He chuckled. "Alright then…I think, since this is the last session, that I want to ask you how this whole process has been for you. From your diagnosis to this moment—do you have any regrets?"

She let out a brittle laugh. "Of course I have regrets. Everybody has regrets."

"Did you ever feel…?" Matt held up a hand as he tried to think up the right word. "Discriminated against?"

Clara shrugged. "There are always going to be those who will treat me unfairly simply because of the label on my forehead, and for a while I let it get to me, but recently I've been trying to practice brushing it off." She felt her lips tug up into a small smile. "I guess you could say that I'm learning to forgive."

Matt smiled back at her. "What do you think you can take away from our sessions that will benefit you?"

Clara bit down on her lower lip and let her eyes drift off to the side while she came up with her answer. "I think…I know myself better now—after living here. I know my limitations, and I'm beginning to accept the fact that there are things I simply cannot do that most people can."

A subtle respect found its way into Matt's expression as he listened to Clara, and she couldn't help but blush under his gaze. No one had looked at her that way in a very long time.

He glanced at the recorder. "I guess this will be my final question: do you have any particular message you would want to impart to the people who will be reading your story?"

Clara raised her eyebrows at the difficult question, and pursed her lips. "Not everyone is who they appear to be."

The tape ended.

* * *

Clara squealed when Matt picked her up from behind and swung her around in a circle.

"Put me down!" she cried out in between her giggling.

He set her back on her feet and kissed her cheek. "I have something special planned."

She spun around to face him, and raised one eyebrow. "Oh?"

He nodded. "An evening to remember."

"Cocktails on the moon?" she guessed.

Matt laughed. "No, better."

"What could possibly be better than cocktails on the moon?" Clara countered.

He winked, and kissed her cheek. "You'll see later—now get to work, you're gonna be late!"

Clara groaned, and quickly went to snatch her keys. "So are you!" she shot back, and tossed him his coat.

"I'll just tell them it's your fault," Matt said as he thrust his arms through the sleeves of his jacket.

"Oi!" Clara exclaimed, and yanked her own jacket on. "I already took the fall for you once this week; they're not going to be overly pleased with you for a second offense."

Matt shrugged as he locked the door behind them. "Oh let them be angry. Sharon will forgive me."

"Sharon also has bosses that can fire you," Clara pointed out.

Matt's face scrunched as he tried to think of a good comeback. "Well that's just—oh…" he huffed. "Fine, you win."

She grinned. "See you tonight, Chin Boy."

He smiled over her use of his nickname. "Have a safe walk, Impossible Girl."

Clara winked, and spun away from him on her heel.

Her day at work passed one minute at a time. It was a Tuesday, so business was slow.

"Why don't you go home?" Craig suggested a couple of hours before closing time. "I'll be alright here."

Clara straightened up from the front counter. "Are you sure?"

He waved her off. "Yeah, go. Consider it my treat."

She smiled widely, and hurried towards the back room to gather her things. "Thanks Craig!"

"Have a good night, Clara!" he called as she exited the shop.

"You too!" she called back.

Clara shivered against the cold air as she began the trek back home. She pulled out her phone, and dialed Matt's number. He would be home by now.

She waited as the line connected.

_"You've reached John Smith. I'm sorry I'm not available at the moment, but leave your name and number and I'll give you a call back as soon as I can. Thank you; have a nice day."_

"Hi Matt, this is Clara. Craig let me off early, so I'm coming home. See you soon." She hung up the phone and stuffed it back into her pocket. It was a bit odd that he hadn't picked up her call—he never missed her calls—but she shrugged it off and continued her walk home.

Clara smiled to herself when her mobile started ringing. "What, did you lose it in your coat pocket again?"

"What?" a voice that was definitely not Matt's asked.

"Oh, sorry Jack, I thought you were Matt." Clara felt another wave of confusion cross her face. Why would Jack be calling her?

He chuckled. "Actually, lover boy wanted me to call you to tell you not to come home just yet. He's working on your surprise."

She stopped in her tracks, and narrowed her eyes. "This isn't another fish fingers and custard tasting party is it? I don't think I can stand to eat another bowl of the stuff after last time."

Jack granted her a proper laugh. "No, it's nothing like that. Just tell me where you are so I can come pick you up."

Clara cocked her head. "Why can't he just call me himself?"

"He's afraid of spoiling the surprise. You know how big his mouth is."

She sighed. "I'm only a half a block away from the bookshop."

"Great! I'll come get you and we'll go do something interesting while we wait." His voice dropped an octave at the end.

Clara nearly blushed. "Jack," she warned.

He laughed again. "Alright, fine, I'll be good. Stay where you are, I'll be right there."

"Okay," she said, and hung up.

It didn't take Jack long to find her. She waved a hand as he pulled up to the curb, and quickly jumped into his car.

"Aren't you freezing in that dress?" He commented as she held up her hands to his car's heater.

"Not really," she answered, and glanced out of the front window. "Where are we going?"

"Nuh-uh, Smithy will have my hide if I tell you anything." He winked at her. "You're gonna love it."

Clara huffed, and jutted out her lower lip. "Just a hint?"

"That irresistible face won't work on me, Clair-bear, not today." He turned the car towards the park Matt and Clara used to frequent on their duck feeding dates and parked. "We're here."

She cocked her head. "I don't understand." She glanced out the window and saw Amy waiting for her with an overly-excited smile. "Why is Amy here?"

Jack winked. "Have a good time, Clara."

Clara blinked, and opened her door. "Uh, thanks."

"Oh! Before I forget, this is for you." He handed her an envelope.

Clara took it cautiously. "Can't you at least tell me a little of what this is all about?"

He shook his head. "And spoil all of my best friend's hard work he put into this evening? What kind of friend would I be if I did that?"

Clara sighed, and stepped away from the car. "Bye, Jack."

"Bye, Clara," he sang, and waited until she was safely on the curb to speed away.

Amy took her chance to pounce on Clara before Jack was even around the corner. "Have you opened it yet? We can't go to the next stop until you open it."

She glanced down at the envelope in her hands. "Okay…"

Amy watched impatiently as Clara tore open the envelope and carefully pulled out the paper inside. She raised her eyebrows with surprise when her leaf charm necklace fell out along with it.

_Put this on and follow the trail; it will take you to your destination. Next stop, soufflés!_

She looked up at Amy. "What's he playing at?"

Her ginger friend gave her a mischievous look and grabbed her hand. "C'mon, we've got no time to waste!"

"What's all this about?" Clara demanded as Amy dragged her towards her car. Clara had never been someone who liked surprises, and she liked them even less now. "Amy?"

Amy opened her door and waved her forward. "I can't tell you, but trust me, you'll love it."

She gave Amy a wary look, but obediently got into the car. "Fine."

Amy smirked triumphantly and quickly got in to start up the vehicle.

Clara stayed quiet for the short duration of the ride. She could feel a flurry of butterflies in her stomach every time she allowed herself to ponder what Matt could possibly be trying to accomplish with this little game of his. Was it their anniversary? No, that wasn't for another couple of months. Did she miss something? Clara had to admit that he had been acting rather strange lately—for the past few weeks he'd been dodging making plans with her and protecting his mobile. Of course, her overactive mind had started to spiral into more than one paranoid scenario, but Clara had believed she had effectively dispelled all of those thoughts. Was she right to begin with? Had he been planning something?

She shook her head to keep her imagination from taking off, and glanced at Amy as they parked. "This is the Timberyard…"

Amy raised an eyebrow. "Very observant." She thrust another envelope towards Clara, and her eyes abruptly softened. "You make him happy, you know."

Clara blinked at her sudden change in tone, and blushed. "I certainly try to."

"Does he make you happy?"

She looked back up at Amy's curious gaze, and let out a tender smile. "Yes."

Amy smiled back, and let the envelope drop into her hands. "Go on then, off you go."

Clara sighed, and climbed out of the car. "And you still won't tell me anything?"

Her fiery Scottish friend shook her head. "Tell the Doctor I said hello."

Clara rolled her eyes, and headed inside.

Jenny jumped up from her seat at a booth and bounded over to her with that huge megawatt smile on her face. "Hello, Clara!"

"Jenny!" Clara called out with genuine enthusiasm as the energetic blond yanked her in for a hug. "It's been far too long."

Matt's sister giggled. "Have you opened your next clue?"

She glanced down at the envelope still in her hands, and looked up at Jenny with on brow raised. "Mind telling me what this is all about?"

Jenny's smile widened even more, and she shook her head. "My lips are sealed. Just open it and we'll get going."

Clara huffed, but did as she was told.

_Clara, my Clara, no doubt you've been grilling everyone for answers. You're impossible to surprise, you know that? Anyway, your next stop looks a little small on the outside, but don't worry, its size is deceiving._

She looked back up at Jenny with a quizzical expression. "Why does he want me to go home? Why couldn't I have just gone there to begin with?"

Jenny grabbed her hand and yanked her back outside. "He said something about taking "the long way 'round." C'mon, he should be ready for you by now."

Another round of nervous butterflies fluttered up in Clara's stomach as she let Jenny yank her over to her car. She was trying to think of all the possible reasons why Matt might plan out such an elaborate route for her to get home, but her mind was drawing a blank.

"How are Rose and David?" she asked as Matt's sister started up the car.

"They're good. I know they were thinking about getting us all together for another visit soon. Mum really wants to see you again."

Clara smiled. Over the course of the past year she had come to really care for Rose. Matt's mum was such a kindhearted person that it was hard not to love her, really. And both she and David had been so welcoming to Clara—never even batting an eye when she had first explained her condition, and even going out of their way to help her regain her independence. The two of them had been instrumental in Clara's struggle to regain control of her finances, and she would be forever grateful to them for that.

"I would love to see them again."

Jenny turned onto the street where Matt and Clara's flat was located, and pulled up to the curb right outside of their building. "Well, we're here!"

"Do you want to come inside?" Clara asked. "I know Matt would love to see you again."

She laughed and shook her head. "I don't think Johnny Boy would appreciate my presence very much tonight. Here, take this." She handed her another envelope.

Clara sighed. "I hate surprises."

Jenny grinned. "I know, but you'll like this one, I promise."

She rolled her eyes. "So I've been told." She opened the car door.

"Hey, Clara," Jenny said in a much softer tone.

Clara half turned back to face her again. "Yeah?"

"I haven't seen John as happy as he is with you in a long time." She reached out and squeezed Clara's hand. "He really loves you, you know."

Clara felt a soft smile grace her features. "I love him, too."

Jenny's radiant grin returned as she released Clara's hand. "Have fun tonight."

"I'll try," Clara grumbled as she shut the car door. She really, really hated surprises.

She waited until Jenny was safely around the corner to turn and head for the front door. Cautiously, she placed her key in the lock and turned it.

She half expected something to jump out at her as she slowly let the door swing open, but the hallway was completely empty. Clara let out a long breath of relief, and felt her shoulders relax as she stepped inside. She could hear music coming from Matt's flat, and cringed slightly when something crashed.

She nearly jumped a foot in the air when Ms. Higgins opened her door. She glared at Clara as she passed her with two full rubbish bags in hand.

"Evening, miss Higgins," Clara said politely.

The older woman grunted at her. "Tell that floppy-haired, noodle-of-a-man friend of yours to keep his music down. Can barely hear myself think with all his racket."

Clara had to bite back a smile as she hurried up the stairs for her front door. "I'll tell him."

Ms. Higgins grumbled something about young people under her breath as she roughly yanked the front door of the complex open and shoved her way outside.

Clara chuckled and stepped into apartment eleven, where she was greeted with a complete mess.

"What's all this?" she demanded loudly over the music.

"Clara!" Matt's voice raised two octaves with panic as he burst from the kitchen with flour all over him. "You're not supposed to be home yet!"

"What happened to you?" she cried, stepping back when he tried to grab her shoulders. "Oh no, no you don't. You're completely covered in flour! What in heaven's name were you trying to do?"

He glanced down at himself, and Clara could only barely see his blush under the layer of flower that covered his face. "Uh, well, you see—"

She held up her hands. "No stop. I don't even want to know." She let out a long, exasperated breath. "And you call me impossible?" She couldn't hold back her smile any longer, and shook her head as she laughed. "Why don't you go shower while I finish whatever it was that you were attempting to make?"

Matt shook his head. "Oh no, I started this, I intend to finish it."

Clara raised her eyebrows. "Matt."

"What?"

She flicked her eyes towards the floor. "You're getting flour all over the carpet."

He glanced down, and another shower of the white powder clinging to his skin fell to the floor. "Yes, well, I got home a little later than expected."

Clara laughed and stood up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Shower. I'll clean this up, and you can finish the surprise afterwards."

Matt's lower lip jutted out. "But Clara, it won't be a surprise anymore."

"I hate surprises," she countered.

He huffed. "Fine." He headed for the stairs. "Bossy control freak!"

"Chinny!" she shot back.

"Oi!"

She giggled as the door the bathroom shut, and spun around on one heel to head for the kitchen.

She sighed heavily as her eyes roved over the mess that used to be their kitchen. "Oh Doctor, what am I going to do with you?"

* * *

"That was excellent," Clara said as she set her fork down.

Matt nodded. "Told you I could do it."

She felt a fond smile spread over her face. "I don't know why I ever doubted you."

They stared at each other for a moment, before Matt jumped up out of his chair and offered her a hand. "Come on, there's more."

Clara raised her eyebrows as she took his hand. "Are you going to tell me what this is all about yet?"

He grinned. "All in good time, be patient."

She let him pull them into the middle of the lounge. "I don't like surprises," she repeated for the hundredth time that evening.

"I know," he said simply, and offered his other hand. "Dance with me?"

She let him pull her in close as they started to sway to the song playing through the speakers of his stereo. "Okay…"

The two of them were quiet for a while as they continued to spin in a slow circle, and eventually, Clara felt herself relax against him.

"This is nice," she murmured as she laid her head against his chest.

She felt him smile as he released her hand to wrap his other arm around her waist. "I'm sorry I made you take the long way home only so you could help me finish your surprise."

Clara shook her head a little. "Don't worry about it."

They were quiet again as the song changed.

"Matt…"

"Hm?"

"What was tonight all about?" She whispered.

She felt him swallow and heard his heartbeat pick up. "Well…"

Clara reluctantly stepped away to look at his face when he didn't continue. "Why ask me to wear my mum's necklace?"

He cleared his throat. "Well…you see, I…"

She raised an eyebrow. "Cat got your tongue?"

Matt chuckled, and reached up to fiddle with his bowtie anxiously. "No, of course not."

Clara laughed a little at his nervous tick. "Spit it out, Chin Boy."

"Right, yes…" He cleared his throat. "Well, you said your mum told you it would always lead you back home…" He trailed off again.

"Matthew," Clara whispered. "What is it you're trying to say?" She reached up and brushed away some of the fringe off of his forehead.

Matt bit his lip, and carefully lowered himself down onto one knee, pulling out a small velvet box as he did so.

Clara audibly gasped and brought her hands up to her mouth. "Matt?"

"Clara Oswald." He opened the box slowly to reveal the ring that was nestled inside. "I was rather hoping home would be with me from now on…I guess, what I'm trying to ask is…" He laughed nervously. "Will you marry me?"

Clara felt tears prick at her eyes, and she quickly tried to blink them away. How had this all happened? Everything had seemed to go by so fast to her—had she really only known this man for one year? She felt like she'd known him for much longer than that, had it really only been a year?

Yes, and it was hard to believe that, really, she'd only met him one year ago. One year ago when she was first getting out of the asylum, one year ago when she'd started taking her pills regularly and the world she settled into some kind of comforting, monotonous order.

She'd only found him _one year ago_.

And now here he was, down on one knee in the dark of their living room with a ring in his hands and a hopeful smile on his face.

"Clara," he whispered. "Would you…?"

"Yes," she finally allowed the word to burst from her lips, and laughed as a few of the tears she'd been trying to force back spilled out over her cheeks.

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "Really?"

"Yes, you silly, ridiculous man. Now come here," she commanded.

Matt's face cracked into a huge smile as he stood and quickly pulled the ring out of the box with shaky hands.

He paused and looked up at her. "You're sure?"

She let out a laugh of disbelief. "Yes, Doctor."

He grinned, and steadied her left hand to slip the ring over her finger. Clara's smile impossibly widened ever more, and Matt reached up to swipe the tears off of her face.

"Don't cry," he murmured.

She laughed again and wrapped her arms around his neck as he bent down to kiss her. Clara's heart swelled with happiness as the kiss solidified the moment into her mind. This was real. This wasn't some hallucination. She wasn't going to wake up tomorrow only to realize she'd never left the asylum. Right?

As if he could read her mind, Matt pulled her in closer as they parted from the kiss. "This is real, Clara."

She smiled. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "Don't be sorry."

Clara sighed contentedly as she laid her head against his chest again. "So they were all in on it?"

"Originally it was only supposed to be Jack who knew." Matt shrugged. "But you know how Jack is; he can't keep his mouth shut."

She chuckled. "That explains a lot."

They were quiet for a while.

"Matt?"

"Hm?"

She bit her lip. "How the hell did we end up here?"

He chuckled. "Luck?"

* * *

Clara couldn't help but stare at her ring as she sat behind the counter at Akhaten's Book Shop. It had been a week since Matt's proposal, and she was doing her best not to spend too much time looking at the ring, but every now and then the sparkle would catch her eye and it would hit her.

She, Clara Oswald, was getting married.

She smiled widely at that thought. Who would have ever believed it?

"Clara? Phone for you," Craig called from the back room.

"Coming!" she called back, and hopped off the stool to head for the back.

She passed Craig on his way out. "Do you think you can close up tonight? Business is slow enough and I need to go to Alfie's school tonight for a parent-teacher meeting."

Clara nodded. "Don't worry about it. Give Sophie my love."

"Will do!" he promised as he grabbed his coat and headed for the door of the shop.

She quickly picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Clara," a familiar voice purred.

Clara's heart all but dropped through the floor. "Who is this?"

The person on the other end of the line chuckled. "I just wanted to congratulate you on your engagement. Be seeing you soon, Patient."

The line disconnected.


	25. Chapter 25: Truth

**Oh, it's been far too long. Hello! Thank you all so much for sticking with me. A huge thank you goes out to my ever lovely reviewers: ThePurpleFrockCoat, TheFrenchShore, and Ernold Same for all of your kind words.**

* * *

**Chapter 24: Truth.**

After a lot of hesitation and second guessing, Matt had finally shipped his manuscript off to be reviewed by publishers. He still felt uneasy about allowing such a personal story to be made public, but he knew he'd made the right decision. As he'd said before, Clara would want it this way.

He had managed to mend his relationship with Jack over the past month. He wouldn't say their friendship wasn't rocky at this point, but it was on its way to improvement. And finally, after weeks of silence, he'd managed to get an audience with his sister.

Matt drummed his fingers across the table as he sat waiting for Jenny in a remote corner of her favorite restaurant. He hated eating here, but he had barely been able to get his sister to agree to see him, so he knew he could tolerate it.

His stomach fluttered as Jenny entered the restaurant, and he waved a hand to get her attention.

She didn't look at all pleased to see him as she slowly walked over to his table and sat down.

"Thanks for meeting me," Matt said.

"Don't mention it," she answered tersely.

They fell into an awkward silence.

"Hello, my name's Allie, I'll be your server today. What can I start you folks off with?" The waitress clicked her pen as she stopped at their table.

"Just water for me," Jenny said.

"Make that two," Matt answered.

Allie nodded and swiftly walked away.

Matt glanced back at Jenny. "So—"

"You lied to me," his sister interrupted him with anger in her voice.

He swallowed. "I know."

"All I wanted to do was help you, I was staying with you—freely giving up my personal time to take care of you—and you repay me by lying to me?" Her voice raised in pitch as she continued on her rant. "John, how could you do that?"

Matt looked down at his hands. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Her voice was disbelieving.

"Have you ever grieved for someone close to you, Jen? Someone who was closer to you than anyone?" Matt's voice wasn't accusatory or even defensive. It scared him a little that he could ask her such a question in a flat, unfeeling tone.

His sister paused, and pursed her lips. "You weren't the only one close with Clara, John."

He shook his head. "No, I know that. But she was my wife, Jenny, I knew her in ways no one else did. And she understood me in ways no one else ever could. Have you ever grieved for someone like that? Someone so close to you they had become an extension of yourself?"

Jenny stared at him for a long time. "I suppose not."

Matt flexed his fingers and forced himself to keep eye contact. "It's not a valid excuse, but…I wasn't rational, Jen. I wanted space, I knew you all meant well, but I needed time to myself. At the time, lying seemed like the only way to get you to leave. It wasn't kind, it wasn't rational, but it made sense at the time."

His sister's eyes searched his face for a moment, before she reached out a hand. "You should have just said something, Johnny Boy. You should know by now that lying to me never works."

His lips twitched into the smallest of smiles as he took her hand. "I suppose I should have."

Jenny pulled her hand back. "It's going to take some time for me to forgive you this time, though. You can't keep doing this to us, John."

Matt's heart fell, but he nodded. "I understand."

She glanced away. "Just…give me some space for now, yeah? I can't speak for mum, but I know I need a break for now."

Matt nodded. "I understand."

Jenny's hand tapped against the table. "So um…you missed a lot while you were on your break."

He raised his eyebrows. "Did I?"

"Yeah, I uh…" She coughed. "I got into contact with one of my birthparents. My mother, actually."

Matt couldn't help it, he smiled. "That's wonderful, Jenny."

She bit her lip. "Matt, there was a reason I haven't wanted to contact her."

Matt blinked, and pulled down his eyebrows. "What?"

His sister sighed. "I've been with the Tyler's for so long I almost forgot what she was like…my mum…is not a good person, Matt." She stared down at her hands. "Imagine your father and add on kleptomania. That'll give you a good idea of who my mother is."

He swallowed, and reached out to squeeze her hand. "I'm so sorry, Jen."

She brushed him off. "It's fine. She's doing better now from what I can tell. She lives in a home, and from what her caretakers tell me she's been a model patient."

"That's good, isn't it?" Matt prompted when she didn't continue.

Jenny shrugged. "I s'pose so. It's better than the alternative."

As Matt sat and struggled to think of something to say he couldn't help but be reminded that there was still so much he didn't know about his adopted sister. He knew that the Tylers had adopted her when she was thirteen, and that she'd lived in and out of foster homes since she was eight, but Jenny had never offered to paint in the rest of the picture and neither Matt nor his parents had ever forced her to. The three of them had all understood what it was like to have a past, and that most things were better left in just that—the past.

He hesitantly leaned forward. "For what it's worth—and I know it's not worth much, but…I'm sorry."

Her eyes flicked back up to his, and a small smile touched her lips. "Thanks, John."

* * *

John Matthew Smith was not his father.

Paul Smith was an abusive alcoholic that had torn apart Matt's world. He was the reason behind his mother's death; Matt knew that for a fact. He was what had driven her so deeply into her depression that she had seen no hope for herself. He had murdered Matt's mother, and for that Matt would never forgive him.

But Matthew Smith was not his father. He was successful, he rarely drank, and most importantly he never laid a hand on anyone—man, woman, or child.

No, Matt Smith was not his father. So why then, was he so afraid to knock on his door?

Matt let his finger press against the buzzer to Paul's building, and waited.

"Randy, if that's you then you should know I—" his father yanked open the door with a red, angry face that quickly melted into shock. "Oh."

Matt shifted on his feet. "Um…I was just in the neighborhood, and I—I, um…I thought I would stop by and, well, check in."

Paul blinked. "I thought you didn't want to see me."

Matt scratched the back of his neck. "I don't."

His father's eyes squinted in confusion. "Then why are you here?"

Matt opened his mouth to speak, and instead took a step back. "You're right. I shouldn't be here." All the reasons why he had been putting this meeting off were racing through Matt's head as he turned to leave.

And then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait," Paul said. "It's been so long…I tried calling your foster parents to try to get in touch with you but they wouldn't give me a number…please Matt, I just…I want to talk. Can I at least have ten minutes with my son?"

Matt closed his eyes, but turned around. "Ten minutes."

He felt as though his feet were on autopilot as he followed Paul into the apartment. The tiny space was filthy to say the least. The paint was peeling in most areas, the tiny front room was barely furnished but covered in old cans and take out boxes, and the smell was enough to make Matt gag. But, from what he could see, there wasn't a bottle of alcohol to be found.

"Please sit down," Paul offered as he shoved a pile of dirty laundry off of a sagging couch.

Matt gingerly sat down on the piece of furniture, and watched as Paul pulled up a fold up chair across from him.

He swallowed. "So…"

His father sucked in his cheeks and the familiar nervous tick made Matt's skin crawl. "I never got to extend my condolences last time we spoke. For your wife."

Matt's back stiffened at the mention of Clara. "No, you didn't."

Paul clamped his hands together. "I'm sorry, Matt, I really am."

Matt clenched his teeth together, but granted his father a sharp nod. "Thanks."

Paul studied him for a moment, and then sat up straight. "Well, I know you didn't just come here to talk to me. What can I do for you?"

Matt shook his head. "Nothing, I…" He stood. "I don't really know why I came here." He turned to leave.

"Matt, wait," Paul called out. "Please, can't we just talk a little longer?"

Matt pulled in a shaky breath. "I don't think that's a very good idea."

Paul stood. "I've been doing better, you know. Look, they even gave me one of them button things for hitting the five-year mark. I've been clean and sober since…" He trailed off.

Matt glanced back at the button. "Happy to hear it. If you'll excuse me, I think I should go." He headed for the door again in swift strides.

"Matt," Paul called after him as he shoved himself out of the front door.

He sighed heavily, but turned around. "Yeah?"

"I just wanted you to know…I'm proud of you, son. Your, uh, your foster dad used to send me updates about how you were doing every now and then. I'm proud of the man you've become."

Matt stared at his father for a moment, and then snorted. "No thanks to you." He quickly spun around, and jogged for his car.

* * *

It seemed only too natural that he would end up at her headstone after the meeting with his father. He had no idea why he had thought going to see Paul was ever a good idea in the first place. Maybe it was because her anniversary had passed not too long ago, or maybe it was because he heard Jenny talking about her birthmother, but whatever the reason was, he was regretting the decision now.

Matt felt a smile tug on his lips as he placed the flowers he'd hastily bought onto her gravestone. "I'm sorry I haven't been by to visit you more, mum, but you know how people talk when a young man spends all his time in a graveyard." He chuckled at his bad joke, and the smile quickly fell from his face.

"I saw Paul today," he whispered, "I know, I know, it was a bad decision but you know how I get around this time. Not that that's any excuse, of course…"

He sighed. "I wish you were here, mum. I miss you."

Matt would have liked to believe that she was still there with him in some way. He wanted to believe that, somehow, his mum was still watching over him. Part of him wanted to smile at the thought that she and Clara were probably together laughing at him over a pot of tea, but lately that was getting harder and harder to do.

He sighed again, and headed back for his car.

* * *

That night he came home to a very empty, very silent flat.

Matt dropped his keys into the dish and grabbed the mail he'd received that day as he headed towards his study.

He glanced down at the envelopes in his hands, and froze. One of the letters was from Bloomsbury Publishing.

Matt tore the envelope open without hesitation.

"Thank you for sending your manuscript, duh, duh….we regret to inform you that, while we enjoyed your novel, we have decided not to publish it at this time…"

He let out a short breath, and crumpled the letter in his hands. "It's only the first," he reminded himself, "everyone gets rejected by the first. Right?" He spun on his heel, and was met with empty space.

He sighed. He hated not having Clara here to share this with him.

Matt tossed the letter into a bin and headed for his kitchen. His brain went on autopilot as he went through the motions of making tea.

As soon as he'd put the kettle on, Matt headed for his lounge. He settled into the couch with a huff, and flipped the television on. He seemed to be doing that more and more lately—distracting himself with television.

He drummed his fingers against his leg. The silence was starting the make his skin crawl.

"Sod it," he grumbled, and darted into his study. He snatched up the copy of his manuscript he had lying on his desk and grabbed his pen. He had been meticulously writing notes for edits in the margins ever since it was finished, and he couldn't seem to make himself stop. Even now, when the full novel was being read by publishers, he couldn't make himself give up his obsession.

"It's not an obsession," he mumbled to himself, and began his editing.

It wasn't until much later in the night that he found it within himself to put his work down. His third cup of tea sat ice cold and untouched beside him, and his eyes felt strained under the dim light of his work lamp.

He sighed, and smacked his pen down onto the table. "I know, I know, I need some rest." He could hear her voice in his ear chastising him for allowing himself to stay up so late when he had work in the morning.

"There's just one thing I need to do first…" He murmured, and pulled out his mobile.

Matt had no idea what prompted him to call her. He knew she was angry with him. He knew she probably didn't want to speak to him for a long time, but right now, he knew he needed her more than ever. He knew that was selfish after all he'd put her through, but Matt couldn't stop himself from calling her.

"Hello?"

He swallowed. "It's me, mum."

The line was quiet for long enough that Matt started to wonder if she had hung up on him. "What do you want, Matthew?"

"I just—" He felt a wave of surprise wash over him when tears stung at the back of his eyes. "I'm sorry, mum, I'm so—" He pulled in a shaky breath, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"Matt?" All of the anger in Rose's voice melted into concern. "John, are you alright? Where are you?"

Matt tried to regain control of himself with a deep breath. "I'm fine, I'm at home, I just…mum, I'm so sorry. I never should have lied to you, I never should have—" The lump that had abruptly bubbled up into is throat forced him to stop speaking.

"Shh, Matthew, shh, it's alright. It's alright, sweetheart. Can you take a deep breath for me?"

Matt struggled to breathe with the slow pace she set, but managed to calm himself after a few deep and even breaths.

"Listen to me Matthew, it's okay. Jenny explained your reasoning to me, and although I'm hurt that you felt the need to lie to me, I understand. I forgive you, Matt, and I love you. You do know that right? I love you so much. You're my son, Matt; you don't need to lie to me. If you need anything all you ever have to do is ask. I would have backed off if I'd known, Matt, I'm only worried about you. I just…" She let out a shaky breath of her own. "I just want to see you happy again, love. That's all."

Matt felt a very small smile creep onto his face. He would be forever grateful for his mum's kind heart. "I love you, mum."

"I love you too, sweetheart," she answered with warmth in her voice.

"I'll see you soon, yeah?"

He could almost hear her smile through the line. "Come see us anytime."

"Goodnight, mum."

"Goodnight, Matt."

* * *

"Good evening Ms. Higgins!" Matt called out as he passed his neighbor on his way to his front door with his arms filled with groceries.

The old woman glared at him. "Next time you have friends coming over I'd like a little warning."

Matt stopped on his stairs, and his eyebrows pulled down in confusion. "What?"

Ms. Higgins scoffed at his reaction. "Oh don't play dumb. I heard your friend blunder in here. They said you gave them a key."

"I most certainly did not give anyone a key." Matt nearly dropped his groceries as he reached for his mobile. "Did they take anything? Did they threaten you?"

The woman's eyes widened a little. "Not that I know of. They just stormed into your flat and left."

"Can you tell me what they looked like?"

She shook her head. "It was a woman, I know that much, but I never got a look at her face."

"Okay, I'm going to call my friend Detective Smith. She'll look into this." Matt pressed down on Sarah-Jane's number and pressed the phone to his ear as he hurried to his door.

"What can I do for you, Matt?"

Matt's heart nearly stopped when he found his door open, and stepped into his flat cautiously. "I need to report a break-in. According to my neighbor there was a woman with a key to our building who broke into my flat today."

"Is anything missing? Did your neighbor get a look at the assailant?" Matt recognized Sarah-Jane's "Detective" voice, and quickly glanced around the flat.

"Nothing's missing that I can see…" his eyes fell to his desk as he entered his study, and his heart stopped. There, lying in the very center of his desk, was a note. "Wait…"

"What is it? I'm heading over there now."

Matt glanced down at the note, and felt his heart leap up into his throat.

_Stop looking._

He stepped back as if the words had actually stung him. "There's a note."

"What does it say?"

"Stop looking," he said, and shivered at the monotone in his own voice.

She was quiet for a moment. "I'm on my way. Stay put and don't touch anything."

"Okay," he said absentmindedly, and hung up.

It took Detective Smith and her forensic team only fifteen minutes at most to arrive at the building. Matt stayed with his neighbor until one of the police officers pulled her aside for questioning, and turned to find Sarah-Jane walking towards him.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

He nodded. "I wasn't home."

She let out a breath of relief, and pulled out her notepad. "And you're sure Ms. Higgins didn't get a look at the assailant?"

He shook his head. "No, according to her the woman never showed her face."

"Do you know of anyone who's aware of the ongoing investigation into your wife's murder that would do this?"

"River," Matt said immediately with a poison in his voice. "This is a stunt she would try."

Sarah-Jane scribbled something onto her notepad. "Okay, we'll check in on her. Do you know of anyone else who would do this?"

Matt shook his head. "Not offhand."

Detective Smith nodded, and turned to leave. "Alright, we'll contact you if we find anything."

"Detective Smith." Matt reached out to stop her from walking away. "I was beginning to think Clara wasn't murdered after all…have you found anything new?"

She pursed her lips, and sighed. "I might as well tell you, you have a right to know."

"Know what?" Matt asked warily.

Her eyes were filled with reluctance. "We've narrowed down our list of suspects to two possibilities."

"Who?" He demanded when she didn't continue.

Detective Smith placed a hand on his arm. "Matt, you won't like it."

"Who?" He repeated more forcefully.

She sighed. "We suspect that your wife's murderer is either Melody Song or…" she trailed off and Matt tried to steel himself against whatever she was so hesitant to say. "Or Jack Harkness."

Matt's heart stopped. No. No, Jack couldn't have done such a thing. How could they suspect him?

"What?"

Sarah-Jane lowered her voice so only he could hear her. "He was placed at the murder scene before police arrived. We originally thought he only showed up after Amelia Williams called him, but we found evidence that links him to the warehouse."

Matt stepped away from her. "What?"

"Residue from a gunshot was discovered only a few feet away from where Clara was found," she explained, "and that residue is a match for a handgun owned by Jack."

"Did he shoot her?" Matt's voice came out strangled.

Detective Smith shook her head. "The powder on Clara's body isn't a match to the sample found that's linked to Jack's gun, but he was there. That much we're certain of. We only took him into custody this morning."

"Why wasn't I informed?" Matt demanded, his voice rising with his anger.

The detective sighed heavily. "I had to question him first, Matt."

Matt reached up to rub his face roughly. "I can't believe this."

"This note may change things, however," Sarah said. "It could mean that the killer is still at large for the moment. Jack may not have murdered Clara."

"We're holding him in custody while we attempt to locate a possible secondary firearm he may have been in possession of, but so far he hasn't been cooperative."

"Can I speak to him?"

Sarah-Jane's expression turned into sympathy. "I don't think that would be wise."

"I might be able to get him to talk," Matt said with an urgent tone in his voice. "Please, you can post a guard in the room to keep me from doing anything improper."

She closed her eyes. "Matt, there's more you don't know about Jack…I probably shouldn't tell you this, but your friend was part of a government funded agency called Torchwood that recruited foster children of a…particular background to be trained and employed as anti-terrorist agents."

Matt felt cold tendrils curl around his spine. "I know. River told me, although I didn't believe her at the time."

Detective Smith ran a hand through her hair. "Then you understand why it's been difficult to get him to talk."

"Let me speak to him," Matt suggested again. "I've known him for years; maybe he'll open up to me."

The detective hesitated. "I don't know…"

"Sarah, please," he was unashamedly begging now, "I just…if it was Jack, I just need to talk to him. I just need to understand."

She stared at him for a long moment, and then sighed. "Fine, you can speak with him. But at the first second I think you're going to do anything that will jeopardize this investigation I'll have you removed."

"Deal," Matt agreed.

* * *

When Matt entered the interrogation room, Jack was already waiting with his head in his hands.

"I've told you a hundred times already—I don't know how my gun got to that warehouse."

"Nice to see you too, Harkness."

Jack's head shot up and his eyes snapped to Matt's. "John."

Matt raised his eyebrows. "I didn't realize we were being formal."

Jack leaned forward earnestly. "Matt, I don't care what Detective Smith tells you, I was not at the warehouse with a gun. I was with Jenny at her house until I got Amy's call."

Matt leaned back into his chair. "You know I want to believe you."

His best friend swallowed. "But?"

"They have some pretty damning evidence, Jack. I mean, how can you explain your gun getting to the warehouse without you? And what's with all of this "Torchwood agent" stuff I'm hearing about? Is it true?"

Jack closed his eyes and breathed in deeply through his nose. "No, of course not."

"Jack, we're friends. We're more than that—you're a brother to me. You can tell me anything." Matt leaned forward to squeeze Jack's arm.

His friend shook his head. "I'm sorry Smithy, but there are just some things about my life I can't tell you about."

Matt jerked backwards as if Jack had hit him. "So it is true? You're an agent for this organization? For how long?"

Jack bit down on the inside of his cheek and leaned back so he could cross his arms. "I'm sorry Matt, but this is just something you can't know about."

Matt pounded his hand against the table. "Dammit Jack! They're going to find out how you're linked to Clara's death, and they're going to convict you of murder unless you can help them find the real killer. All the evidence is pointing to you right now, and unless you start talking or your agency swoops in to save you then you're going to be convicted!"

"What makes you so convinced I didn't kill Clara?"

Matt froze, and stared at Jack with wide eyes. "Did you?" His voice barely came out as a hoarse whisper.

Jack's eyes bored into him for a long moment until he finally shook his head. "No, I didn't."

"Do you know who did?"

He sighed heavily. "No."

Frustration welled up in Matt once again. "I don't understand."

"John, you need to stop looking in to this. As your friend, I need you to stop looking into this."

"Jack, please just explain."

Jack sighed heavily. "Get your detective in here and I'll tell you everything I do know."

Matt nodded, and glanced over at the one-way mirror where he knew Sarah-Jane was watching.

It took less than thirty seconds for Detective Smith to burst into the interrogation room and quickly march over to the chair next to Matt.

"Proceed," she commanded.

Jack sighed heavily, and ran his hands down his face. "I will, but on one condition."

Sarah-Jane let out an irritated huff. "Name it."

"I want full protection. After I disclose the information you want I want you to place me in witness protection. There are people who will kill me for this."

Matt's eyes widened, and he swallowed down the lump that had lodged itself in his throat.

Detective Smith nodded. "You'll have as much protection as you require."

Jack let out a shaky breath, and glanced at Matt. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"

He nodded. "You're my best friend, Jack, of course I do."

Jack sighed. "Well, for starters, my name isn't actually Jack Harkness. That's an identity I took over from a military Captain who died in World War Two. When Torchwood placed me back into civilian life I needed a permanent alias…" Jack's eyes shot down to his hands. "Everyone believes the agency was dismantled after some of their more aggressive practices were discovered, but the truth is that it was really only taken deep underground. It still operates today."

"When were you first recruited?" Detective Smith asked.

"The agency found me when I was thirteen," Jack answered in a brisk tone. He glanced at Matt. "I was…down on my luck, you could say."

Sarah-Jane's eyes flicked between Matt and Jack. "How did you end up in the warehouse, Jack?"

"I was assigned to London because the agency had picked up on some Intel that suggested that the Headquarters of a prominent terrorist group—the Silence—was located somewhere within the city. My job was to protect a young couple that had defected from the group. They had a daughter at the time."

Matt's heart stopped. "Are you saying you were sent in to protect Clara and her family?"

Jack nodded. "They were under witness protection, but Torchwood had a lead on the case. I had a partner at the time under the alias River Song, who the agency later found out was serving as a double agent for the Silence. It was her job to get close to the family so the group could strike against them."

"Why would they do that?" Detective Smith asked.

"The Silence doesn't tolerate traitors," Jack spit out the words.

"I still don't understand how this ends up with you in the warehouse," Matt said.

Jack sighed. "Well…the agency didn't discover River's true motives until it was too late. By then the Silence had already killed Clara's mother and landed her in the hospital. We needed to move quickly then, so we placed a twenty-four hour watch on the Oswalds in case River or another member from the group attempted a strike. By then we'd lost River, although we suspect that at that point she had fled the country…"

"Jack, you still haven't answered the question," Matt prompted.

"I'm getting there," he answered. "Anyway, when Clara started showing symptoms for Schizophrenia the agency advised Dave Oswald to break off contact with his daughter for her protection and allow us to relocate him. After that, it became my job to solely look after Clara." He glanced at Matt. "What we didn't anticipate was you. We never thought people like you and Clara would ever cross paths."

"Me?" Matt's eyebrows pulled down. "Why would I be a problem?"

Jack sighed. "You're a journalist, Matt, that makes you a security risk. If you had learned even an inkling of the truth and published it, then all of us would have been put in danger, especially Clara."

"How were you instructed to proceed?" Detective Smith asked.

Jack folded his hands together. "I was told to keep an eye on the situation, and to report back the moment I believed the Oswalds were compromised. Luckily, that report never had to happen…" he closed his eyes for a moment. "The day Clara died I was with Matt's sister Jenny, as I stated before. The agency called me to inform me that they had discovered that River was back in London. Torchwood had never taken off the twenty-four hour watch on Clara, so as soon as River came for her we knew."

"Then why didn't you stop her?" Matt demanded.

Jack shook his head. "We couldn't. The agency knew River was going to lead us straight to Simeon, the leader of this branch of the Silence. If we captured him, then we would have been able to find the rest of their operation. I was tasked with his capture."

"Hold on, I think I'm missing something here," Detective Smith said, "you claim that you don't know how your gun got to the scene, but I find it hard to believe that you would go into that warehouse unarmed."

"I didn't, but the gun you matched isn't the one I took with me," Jack explained. "And I never fired a shot. I got to the scene. Clara was being held at gunpoint by River and Simeon. I had already taken out the guard they had posted outside."

"So, who was shot besides Clara?" Matt asked.

"Like I said, I don't know," Jack said, "I was attempting to gain control over the situation, and I was so focused on the three people in front of me that I didn't notice when someone came up behind me. They hit me in the back of the head hard enough that I blacked out for a couple of minutes. By the time I woke Clara was dead and I could hear the sirens coming, so I ran."

Matt blinked, and stood up abruptly.

"Matt, I tried to save her, I promise I did. You don't know how guilty I've felt that I couldn't save her. She was more than a job, Matt, she was family. Just like you," Jack called after him as he shoved out of the interrogation room.

Matt didn't stop walking until he was outside of the police station. Cold air forced its way into his lungs as he stepped out onto the pavement, and he stared up at the all-too-familiar cloudy sky.

He didn't understand what was happening. He couldn't even begin to believe the amount of coincidence and chance involved in the whole situation. Could it possibly all be true? Could everything River told him in the park be true?

He didn't know. He didn't like not knowing.

He was going to find out the truth.


	26. Chapter 26: Announcement

**Hello! I'm going to keep this short and sweet since I know it's been an insanely long time. I have some news. For those of you who don't know, I've actually finished typing up the remaining chapters of this story. The good part of that is that it means you'll all have chapters much quicker from now on. The bad part is that there are only four more to go, an epilogue, and then it's all over. :(**

**Anyway, many thanks go out to the ever lovely Angela Shiroe and ThePurpleFrockCoat for your reviews. **

**I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 25: Announcement.**

Never in Clara's life had she ever felt so completely terrified. Nothing in her life so far had ever felt this hard, never had she felt so much pressure, never before had she been handed such an important decision.

Clara bit down onto her sixth cake sample, and chewed as slowly as possible.

"Well?" Amy asked.

She swallowed. "It tastes just as good as the last five."

"Ugh, Clara, this is important. Do you want to try them all again?"

"No!" Clara held a hand out to stop Amy from handing her more cake. "Um, I guess I'll pick the third one."

Amy raised an eyebrow. "The vanilla?"

Clara bit her lip. "Yes?"

Her friend sighed and reached out to squeeze her hand. "I know this is tough. Are you sure that's the one you want?"

Clara hesitated, but nodded. "Yes, definitely. The vanilla is the one."

Amy's face erupted into a huge smile. "Great! I'll put in the order. Why don't you look at the centerpieces next? They're all in here." She handed her a thick file, and Clara sighed heavily.

"Shouldn't Matt be here for all of this?" she asked.

"Matt's at work and he told me he would be fine with whatever you want." Amy caught sight of Clara's expression and gave her hand another squeeze. "Take a deep breath Clara, it'll be okay; trust me. If it makes you feel better you can wait to look at the center pieces until you can discuss it with Matt."

Clara let out a slow breath, and felt the tension in her shoulders relax a little. "Thanks, Amy."

She grinned. "What are wedding planners for? Now c'mon, let's get on with this, yeah?"

Clara let Amy drag her back to the car after placing the order for the cake. She had to admit, designating Amy as her official wedding planner was probably one of the smartest moves Clara had ever made. Amy was quick and relentless when it came to getting the materials that were needed, and she never went ahead with anything without checking with Clara first. Even better, she had gotten almost as good as Matt at calming Clara down when she was on the verge of a panic attack, which was a true skill to say the least.

Clara let out a groan as she settled into the passenger's seat in the car. "How am I going to survive five more months of this?"

Amy chuckled. "It's worth it, I promise."

Clara yanked her hair back into a ponytail and forced herself to sit up. "I'll take your word for it."

Her friend shot her a sly smile. "So, who besides me knows? Have you told your dad yet?"

Clara sighed. "No one except you and Rory know. Matt and I wanted to get everyone together on Christmas and announce it then. Although how I'll get my father or my aunt to attend I don't know."

"Oh cheer up, they'll come. They love you, Clara."

"Have you ever met my family? They either avoid me or treat me as though I'm completely incapable of taking care of myself. I may be living with a disorder, but I'm not completely handicapped thank-you-very-much."

Amy gave her a wary sidelong glance. "Whoa there, calm down. Maybe this year will be different."

Clara's eyes lowered to her hands. "Unlikely."

Amy glanced at her with a sympathetic expression. "Has it been decided whose house all of us are meeting in yet?"

Clara shrugged. "Rose and David offered, and they have the largest house so it makes the most sense."

Amy pulled up to the curb in front of Clara and Matt's flat and gave Clara a reassuring smile. "Well I know Rory and I are looking forward to it."

Clara smiled back. "See you there, then."

"Clara," Amy called just as Clara stepped out of the car. "We all love you, Matt especially. If your dad or your aunt gives you a hard time, we'll be there."

Warmth fluttered into Clara's heart as her smile widened. "Thanks Amy."

Clara waited until her friend was driving away to spin around and head into the apartment. She leaned against the front door to the building for a moment as she let out a tired sigh and closed her eyes.

She jumped when her mobile rang, and pushed herself away from the door as she answered it. "Hello?"

"I thought your favorite flavor was dark chocolate?"

Clara froze on the stairs to her door, and gripped the phone tighter. "You need to stop calling me."

Nina giggled. "Aw c'mon, don't you miss me at all? Do you remember all the fun we used to have? I was thinking about dropping by sometime soon."

Clara clenched her teeth. "You're not real."

"Then why are you still talking to me?"

She swiftly ended the call and hurried up the stairs to her flat. Her hands were shaking as she pulled her keys out, and Clara cursed when it took her three tries to get the right key in the lock.

She slammed the door shut as soon as she was inside and leaned her forehead against the wood. Why was she so afraid? Nina wasn't real; she had to keep reminding herself of that. She would just place a call to Dr. Jones to have her medications readjusted and…

Her heart skipped a beat.

What if Dr. Jones sent her back to the asylum? What would happen to her then?

And what would Matt do? What if, after he discovered how long she'd allowed this to go on, he wouldn't want her anymore? What if he started to see her as a burden like everyone else in her life always had? What if while she was trapped in the asylum he met someone else? Someone free and uncomplicated who could simply be in love with him? Someone who could make him happy…

Clara shook her head and forced herself away from the door. "No, that's not going to happen."

But what if it did?

Clara took in a deep breath and glanced down at the phone that was still in her hand. Maybe Nina would go away on her own if Clara could convince herself she wasn't real. Maybe she wouldn't have to call Dr. Jones at all.

She decided to give it at least a month, and set down her mobile on her way to the kitchen.

* * *

Clara nearly cried out in terror when Matt burst into their flat later that evening. "I'm home!" he called as he shut the door loudly and joined her in the lounge. His wide grin melted into a frown when he caught sight of her panicked expression. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine; you just startled me is all. Welcome home."

He leaned down to kiss her before he hurried towards the kitchen. "I'm starved; have we got any of that pasta left?"

"Um, there should be some in the fridge," she said as she tried to force herself to relax.

"In the fridge?" His voice sounded uncertain.

Clara couldn't keep the smile from spreading across her face, and rolled her eyes. "Bottom shelf!"

It was quiet for a moment. "Ah! Found it!"

She half paid attention to the sound of Matt preparing his meal in the kitchen as she slowly got each one of her muscles to relax. It was a trick her therapist had taught her not too long ago. She would breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth while keeping her eyes closed. As this happened, Clara would imagine a long spiral staircase that she would slowly descend, and as she descended her mind would gradually clear and her body would relax. She had practiced this several times at this point, and had deemed the technique efficient.

She opened her eyes as Matt re-entered the room. "Smells good," she commented.

He grinned and offered her a bite. "Want some?"

Clara shook her head and stood. "No, I'm not feeling all that well; I think I'll just go to bed."

Matt caught her wrist as she tried to pass him. "Hey, what is it? You can't fool me that easily, Clara."

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "It's nothing, honestly. I'm just tired—that's all."

"Okay," he said, and pulled her hand up to kiss her knuckles. "Well, I'll be up soon."

She nodded. "Okay."

She could feel his eyes on her the whole way up the stairs, but didn't let herself look back. He couldn't know about her returning symptoms, and she hated lying to him anymore than she had to.

Clara quickly went through her nightly routine before she grabbed the folder full of pictures of centerpieces that Amy wanted her to go through. She knew her mind was still far too keyed up to sleep, and besides, relieving some of her stress about the wedding would probably help her symptoms subside at least a little.

She had narrowed the selection down to four by the time Matt joined her in their room. "What's all this?" he asked as he yanked off his shirt.

She sighed heavily. "Centerpieces for the tables at our reception. Amy wants us to have one selected as soon as possible so she can start ordering them. What do you think of this one?" She held up a picture of a bouquet of daisies.

"You hate daisies," Matt said, "what about that one? I quite like that."

Clara wrinkled her nose at the picture. "Lilacs? That's something my Gran would put in her house."

He chuckled. "You're right, what was I thinking?"

She bit down on her bottom lip as he crawled into their bed. "Why is this so hard? This doesn't seem like it should be this hard."

Matt wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. "We'll find one we like, don't worry. What about this one?" He pointed at one of the pictures she had selected—it was a simple bouquet of white roses in a small vase.

Clara picked up the picture to examine it. She looked up at Matt, and smiled. "I think this one would be just fine."

Matt smiled back at her, and kissed her forehead. "Is this what had you so stressed out this evening?"

Clara swallowed, and avoided his eyes. "No, it wasn't just this. Amy was asking me about our Christmas plans."

"Are you worried about calling your dad?" Matt asked softly.

She nodded. "I haven't spoken to him since…well, you know. And I just know he's going to want them there if _she_ lets him go at all and I don't want that woman anywhere near me."

He took her hand. "I know Clara, but he's your dad. Don't you want him to at least know that you're getting married? Don't you want him there at our wedding?"

She sighed heavily and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Of course I do."

Matt intertwined their fingers. "If it makes you feel better, I know Amy and Jack have come up with a plan to keep your dad's wife busy the entire night and they've got everyone in on it."

Clara smiled. "Really?"

"Really."

* * *

It was official. She was cursed.

To be fair, the conversation with her father hadn't actually gone that badly—he had been perfectly civil with her the entire time. It wasn't until his wife had taken the phone from him to speak with her that everything had started to go so horribly wrong.

"Clara dearest, so good to finally hear from you again," Sheryl had said in that overly cheery way of hers.

"You too Sheryl. I was actually hoping to see you and my father—and the girls too, if they want to come—at Matt's parents' house for Christmas this year."

The silence on the other end of the phone had lasted for only the slightest of moments, and then—

"Well of course we'll be there dear! Your father and I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

Clara's heart had sunk straight through to the floor. "See you soon, then."

"Buh-bye!"

The only rational explanation that Clara could come up with was that she was cursed. She would have been perfectly happy with telling her Dad about her engagement over the phone or letting him hear about it through her Aunt Linda. But oh no—no, Sheryl just _had_ to change her mind over her anti-Clara policy and accompany her father to the dinner. And better yet, Aunt Linda had only been thrilled to accept her invitation.

She was cursed.

* * *

"Your sister is going to kill us for being this late," Clara said as the two of them pulled up into Rose and David's driveway.

Matt chuckled. "If only we had a time machine." He waved his comment off. "She'll get over it."

Clara affectionately rolled her eyes at him and climbed out of the car.

"We're here!" Matt called as they entered the house. The small space was already filled with the smell of Rose's cooking, and in even more chaos than usual. Presents and decorations were haphazardly strewn across every available surface.

Clara followed Matt into the kitchen, where they were greeted by a round of cheers.

"You made it!" Jenny cried as she bounced up to take the dessert they had brought out of Clara's hands. "We were beginning to wonder if you were coming at all."

"Sorry about that—this one decided to sleep in this morning," Clara said with a nudge to Matt's ribs.

"Oi, I'm not the one who was set on a proper breakfast," he shot back.

She and Jenny exchanged a roll of eyes as Clara pulled her in for a hug. "Well we're happy you could make it."

"That we are!" David shouted happily as he and Rose came up to greet Matt and Clara.

"Lovely to see you, Clara," Rose said as she leaned in to kiss Clara's cheek.

"You too, Rose," she answered.

"Is Johnny Boy here still treating you all right, sweetheart?" David asked.

Clara was suddenly very aware of the engagement ring carefully hidden on a chain beneath her shirt, and smiled widely. "He's wonderful as always."

Matt smiled back at her and tucked her into his side. "So where is everyone?"

"Rory and Amy were only fifteen minutes behind you last we heard. Jack is in the car with them, and Clara's family hasn't called us yet," Rose answered as she hurriedly moved to save a tray of cookies from the oven.

"Rose, do you want some help?" Clara asked.

Matt's mum smiled brightly at her. "I would be grateful if you would fetch me some eggs from the chicken coop. David can show you where it is."

"Follow me, Clara!" David cried and headed towards the backdoor.

"On my way. Matt, would you call my aunt to see if they're anywhere close yet?"

"Can do," he said.

David handed her a bucket as she joined him in the backyard. "So Matthew told me you two have something of an announcement to make this evening."

Clara's eyes shot up with surprise. "That's right, but I was under the impression that no one was aware of that just yet."

Matt's dad only smiled. "He called and asked me to help him pick out the ring. Don't worry; I'm the only one who knows and I know how to keep a secret." He winked.

Clara blushed. "I suppose you know how I answered, then."

David pressed his tongue to his teeth. "That I do. Matt's a very lucky man—I've never seen him as happy as he is with you."

Her blush deepened even more. "He's not the only one who's lucky."

David chuckled and opened the chicken coop door. "After you, milady."

By the time they had returned to the house the chaos had increased tenfold.

"There you are!" Amy called out enthusiastically as Clara entered the kitchen.

"Oof—hello to you too, Amy," Clara said as the redhead all but knocked her over.

"When are you going to tell them?" Amy whispered.

"At dinner," Clara whispered back before the two parted. "Rory, always good to see you."

"Likewise," Rory said as he gave her a brief hug.

Clara's eyes fell on Jack as she and Rory parted. Jack held his arms out. "C'mere Clair-bear."

"Hi Jack," she said with a laugh as they embraced.

"Clara, I called Linda, she said they'll be here in about a half hour or so," Matt said.

"Great."

* * *

Exactly thirty minutes later, Clara saw their car pull up into the driveway.

Amy gave her hand a tight squeeze. "You can do this."

Clara shot her a tight smile before she went to open the door. "Hel—"

She was cut off by Sheryl yanking her in for a hug. "Oh darling, it's so good to see you again! My, you look wonderful!"

Clara blinked with surprise. "Um, thanks. You too."

If it was at all possible, Sheryl's smile seemed to grow even wider. "Thank you dear! Now, which way is the kitchen, I'm eager to meet all of your friends!"

"That way," Clara said numbly while pointing towards the kitchen.

"Thank you—why don't you help your father and the girls." She patted Clara's cheek and headed for the kitchen.

Clara sighed, and headed out into the yard.

"Clara! Lovely to see you again—would you be a dear and take this to the kitchen?" Astrid all but thrust a tray of chocolates into Clara's arms before she rushed passed her towards the house.

"Sure," Clara muttered, "why not?"

Ada greeted her with a sympathetic smile. "Sorry about her—how have you been?"

A genuine smile lit up Clara's face as the two of them walked back towards the house. "Well, thank you for asking. How about you?"

"The same," Ada said.

"Clara Oswald, aren't you going to greet me?"

"Of course, Linda," Clara spun back around to face her aunt. "Merry Christmas."

Linda looked her up and down. "You look well, Clara, have you been dieting?"

Clara blinked. "No."

"Oh," Linda sniffed and sauntered passed her, only to be closely followed by Clara's dad.

"Hi, Clara," he said with a tentative smile.

Clara swallowed to keep her nerves steady. The weight of the information River had given her last time they spoke still felt heavy in her heart. And how much of it could be true? Clara had yet to separate the lies from the truth, and she knew she couldn't ask him or Linda about it. They, of all people, would only mark her as insane and force her back into hospital.

"Hello," she finally said, and quickly spun herself away from him.

"Clara—Clara, wait." Dave reached out and grabbed her arm. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened the last time I saw you. I didn't know Sheryl would react like that. If it makes you feel better, I had a long talk with her and the girls after you left. They've agreed not to speak to you that way again."

Clara closed her eyes for a moment. "Fine. If you'll excuse me." She all but ran for the kitchen.

The rest of the evening that led up to the dinner and the announcement was not nearly as horrible as Clara had feared it would be. True to their word, Jack and Amy made sure to keep Clara's half of the family as occupied as possible and Clara didn't think she had ever felt more grateful. She was barely keeping herself together under the stress of what she knew.

Even the dinner itself was fairly pleasant. She, Ada, and Jenny had all become fast friends so Clara didn't need to worry about making conversation with any of the others. At some point in the dinner, Clara even found that she was enjoying herself.

It wasn't until dessert, when Matt squeezed her hand and shot her a pointed look that the anxiety came back.

She nodded.

He smiled, and gave her a quick kiss before he pulled them both up to their feet. "Excuse me everyone, but uh, Clara and I have a bit of an announcement."

The buzz of conversation around the table died down as all eyes turned to them.

Matt cleared his throat. "Yes, well…" he glanced at Clara, and she gave him a smile of encouragement. "I just wanted to say that—as we wrap up another year and count all of the things we are grateful for—I am so incredibly lucky to have met this amazing woman beside me. Clara has been my inspiration, my comfort, but most importantly she's been a dear friend; and I am so happy to announce that by April fifteenth I'll be able to call her my wife."

Clara carefully pulled the chain out from under her shirt to show them all the ring.

Jenny gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth.

Jack was the first to speak. He stood as a huge grin erupted across his face and walked around the table to shake Matt's hands. "That-a-boy Johnny! Congratulations!"

The whole table flew back into chaos as everyone stood to congratulate the two of them. Everyone, that was, except for three—Sheryl, Linda, and Dave.

"Is something wrong, Dad?" Clara asked as she was released from Rose's arms.

Dave crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. "I don't like it."

Clara curled back from him into Matt's chest. "What?"

Sheryl placed a hand on Dave's arm. "Well dear, I-I think what your father means is that this is all just a bit sudden. You've only known each other for, as I understand it, a little over a year? You barely know each other. You're both young; why get married now?"

"You're pregnant, aren't you," Linda said with a bite in her tone. "Clara, have I taught you nothing? How could you do something so reckless?"

Anger bubbled up in Clara's stomach. "I'm not pregnant, Linda."

"Why would you assume such a thing?" Rose demanded as she took a step in front of Clara. "That's your niece, isn't it? Your niece who just announced something incredibly special—why would you tarnish that by assuming she's only marrying Matt because she feels as though she has to?"

Linda snorted. "Please, they've only known each other for a year. What else could it possibly be?"

Clara felt tears pool in her eyes as Matt wrapped an arm around her.

"How can you say something so awful?" Jenny demanded. "Why can't you just be happy for them?"

Linda opened her mouth to answer, but Clara's father stopped her by putting a hand up. He stood up, and slowly made his way around the table until he was directly in front of Clara. She felt it when Matt's friends and family carefully inched closer to her.

She quickly wiped away the tear that had somehow managed to leak out onto her cheek, and forced her eyes to meet his.

He was quiet for a moment. "Do you love this man, Clara?"

She nodded mutely.

"He makes you happy?"

She repeated her nod.

Dave Oswald cleared his throat and glanced up at the people standing behind her. "And his family and friends? They all treat you well? They make you happy?"

"Yes," she said softly. "The happiest I've ever been."

Dave sighed. "Matthew."

Clara felt Matt's arms tighten around her. "Yes?"

Clara's Dad squared his shoulders as he gave Matt his most stern look. "Take care of her."

Clara felt her mouth fall slightly open with disbelief as her Dad walked towards the front door. "Come on girls, I think we've overstayed our welcome."

"Dave!" Linda shouted as she lurched to her feet. "Where the hell are you going?"

"Home," he said before slamming the front door behind him.

Everyone in the room stood frozen for a long moment until Sheryl stood.

Clara watched her with shock still frozen on her face as she came to stand in front of her.

"Now, I can't say that I approve and I can't say that I understand why this man of yours would be willing to give up his life to take care of you, but…" Sheryl sighed, and patted Clara's arm. "I still wish you all of the luck in the world." She snapped her fingers as she headed for the door. "Astrid, Ada!"

Astrid quickly followed her out, but Ada lingered behind to give Clara a hug. "Congratulations, Clara. I know my mother can be cruel, but I believe you're doing this for love. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness."

Clara smiled slightly. "Thank you, Ada."

The girl nodded, and followed her family out.

Clara shrunk back from Linda's glare. "I hope you're pleased with yourself. Do you know what you've just done?"

Clara swallowed, and forced herself to step away from Matt to better look her aunt in the eyes. "I think I understand more than you realize, Linda."

Her aunt seemed taken back by the confidence in Clara's voice, and searched her face with a critical gaze. "Perhaps you do." She turned sharply away on her heal, and didn't look back.

Clara felt herself finally deflate and slowly turned to face the rest of her family.

The tears she had been steadfastly holding back finally broke to the surface. "I'm so sorry I ruined your Christmas."

"Oh Clara, no," Amy said softly as she strode forward to gather Clara up into her arms. "No sweetheart, they're the ones who started the fight. You didn't do anything wrong."

"She's right, Clara," David said as the rest of them surged forward to surround her. "And for what it's worth, we're all very happy for you and Matt."

Rose came closer to cup Clara's cheeks and wipe at her tears. "Honey, have they always spoken to you that way?"

She nodded and found she couldn't hold back the sob that had lodged itself in her throat.

"Oh Clara," Rose whispered as she pulled her closer, "how long has this abuse gone on? Since your mum died?"

Clara nodded against Rose's shoulder, and sobbed even harder.

"Oh, sweetheart," David murmured, and reached out to smooth down the back of her hair. "I'm so sorry."

Rose released her when Matt appeared with a tissue. Clara took it from him as he tucked her up under his chin.

"Why don't you take her upstairs?" Jenny whispered. "It's less crowded up there."

Matt nodded. "Does that sound alright, love?"

Clara sniffled. "Okay."

She allowed Matt to pull her up the stairs into the bedroom Rose and David had set aside for them. He quietly shut the door as Clara sat down on the bed.

Matt sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Clara, I'm so sorry I pushed you into inviting them tonight. You knew something like this would happen—I'm sorry."

"No." Clara shook her head profusely. "No, Matt, don't be sorry. You're not the one who did anything wrong. It's not your fault. It's mine."

Matt pulled his eyebrows down. "What? No it's not, Clara."

"But it is," she lamented, "I should have known better than to think they would be happy for us. I shouldn't have allowed them to come—I should have…" she hiccupped.

"Shh, no Clara," Matt murmured. "They're all responsible for their own actions. You shouldn't be held responsible for how badly they reacted."

"But I knew that's how they would react," Clara insisted, "I knew better, I shouldn't have…" she let her head fall into her hands. "What will they do at our wedding?"

"We don't have to invite them if you don't want to," Matt assured her.

"But Dave is my father, and even if we're not on the best of terms he deserves a chance to walk me down the aisle. I want him to want to walk me down the aisle. But wherever he goes Linda and Sheryl go. And Astrid and I just…I can't…" she melted into another round of tears.

"I know, sweetheart," Matt murmured, and kissed the top of her head. "Hey, you don't need to decide anything right now, okay? We can cross that bridge when you're ready."

Clara smiled weakly. "Thank you."

Matt smiled back. "Do you want to go back down?"

She swallowed, and shook her head. "I think I need to just go to sleep."

"Okay." He kissed her cheek lightly, and stood—only to stop at the door. "Hey, I love you."

Clara's smile returned to her face. "I love you too."

He closed the door softly, and Clara let out a slow breath as the room lapsed into silence. She could still hear them talking downstairs, and if she listened hard enough she could hear the ocean in the distance, but other than that she was enveloped in complete quiet.

Clara felt each one of her muscles begin to relax as she toed off her shoes and stretched out onto the bed.

She had just gotten her eyes to close when her phone buzzed.

She groaned and grabbed it off of the nightstand.

* * *

**Received: 9:30 PM**

**I was in the area and heard you and Matthew decided to get engaged. Congratulations. I'll see you soon.**

**XxRiver**


	27. Chapter 27: Goodbyes

**Hello! Many thank-you's go out to the ever wonderful Angela Shiroe, Guest, Ernold Same, and ThePurpleFrockCoat for your reviews.**

* * *

**Chapter 26: Goodbyes.**

Matt couldn't help the tired smile that crept across his face as Amy broke free from the crowd at the airport and headed in his direction.

"Hey you," she said as the two of them embraced.

"Hey you," he responded.

They stayed in their hug for a moment longer before breaking apart to head for the door that would take them to the parking lot.

"How was your flight?" Matt asked.

Amy shrugged. "Long. Rory and Melody send their love."

Matt sighed. "I still can't believe you named her after River."

His best friend took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "No I didn't. I named her after the friend I knew."

They didn't speak again until they were in the car on the way to Matt's flat.

"So how is he?" Amy asked quietly.

Matt shrugged. "They have him staying in a heavily guarded motel room right now, or so I'm told. I haven't spoken with him since I called you."

"And he's really going into hiding?" Her voice quivered a little.

Matt swallowed, and took her hand. "He has to."

"Don't you need to go into hiding too? Oh my God, do I?" Amy's eyes widened slightly with fear. "What if they come to find me and they hurt Melody? Or Rory?"

Matt squeezed her hand. "Hey, it's going to be okay. No one is going to come looking for you. As far as they know, you don't know anything. As for me? I can take care of myself."

"Matt, what if they come for you? And you don't know they won't come for me either. I may not know anything—which is beyond irritating, by the way—but they could still use me and my family to get to you. And what about your family? You're all in danger now."

"Amy, Jack's organization is watching us all twenty-four seven. Trust me, ay? I wouldn't let anything happen to any of you."

Amy closed her eyes. "I shouldn't have come."

Matt sighed. "No, you shouldn't have. I tried to tell you that over the phone."

"Did you really expect me to listen?"

He exchanged a sideways glance with her, and snorted. "No, I suppose not."

"Does your family know?"

Matt sucked in his cheeks and bit down as he released a breath. "They know enough. The less they know the safer they are. Same goes for you."

Amy let her head fall into her hands. "How did any of this even happen?"

"I wish I knew," Matt muttered.

* * *

He was surprised they were getting a chance to say goodbye to Jack at all, really. Since he had been taken into custody the people in charge of his protection had allowed no contact. It was only through a strenuous amount of begging on both sides that they had even considered this final meeting.

Matt felt Amy's arm snake around his waist as they approached the lobby of the motel Jack had been staying in. Their escort was right behind them and Matt could see several cars placed in strategic positions around the parking lot.

They entered the lobby and were greeted by David, Rose, and Jenny.

"You made it," Jenny said as she reached out for Amy.

"Of course I did," Amy answered. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

Rose rubbed Matt's arm. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm alright," he said quietly as an awkward pause fell over the group. "Shall we?"

The five of them turned back around to meet up with the escort again. He nodded when they emerged, and strode off at a quick pace.

Amy's hand found Matt's again as they neared Jack's room. He gave it a squeeze and then released it as the escort said something into his earpiece and knocked on the door.

Matt's heart was pounding in his chest as the door opened and they were waved inside by another agent. He followed Amy inside, and his eyes immediately found Jack.

His best friend gave them all his best grin as the door shut behind them. "Nice place, isn't it?"

Amy lunged across the small space to tackle Jack into a hug. "You idiot."

Jack let out a short laugh as he hugged her back. "It's nice to see you again too, Amy. How are Rory and my niece?"

Amy let out a short laugh as they broke apart. "You should come back to New York with me so you can see for yourself."

Jack kissed her cheek. "Nice try." He glanced around her at Jenny. "C'mere you."

Jenny let out a sob as she accepted Jack's open arms. He held her close for a long moment before kissing her temple and breaking away from her. "Be good, yeah?"

She let out a laugh similar to Amy's. "Says the biggest trouble-magnet I've ever known."

Jack smiled slightly. "Keep your brother in line for me."

Jenny sniffed. "I can do that."

"I have no doubt," he said with a wink.

Rose pulled him in next. "I know you probably won't ever be able to, but should you ever come back and find yourself in need of a home, you can look us up."

"Of course," he said.

Rose kissed his cheek. "We love you, sweetheart."

Jack smiled. "I know."

David patted Matt on the back before stepping forward. "You take care of yourself, Jack."

"Will do, David. I trust you and Matt will be able to keep everyone together while I'm gone?"

David nodded. "Can do."

Matt stepped forward then, and the two friends stared at each other.

Jack cleared his throat. "Well…"

Matt chuckled, but the sound felt hollow. "Yeah."

Jack crossed the space between them to tackle him. "You're one of the good ones, Smithy."

Matt squeezed his eyes shut and pulled in a sharp breath. "You too, Harkness."

They broke apart, and Jack clapped his shoulder. "Be happy, mate. I know you don't think you'll ever find happiness again, but it's out there. Promise me you'll keep an open mind about it."

Matt swallowed hard, but nodded. "I promise."

Jack glanced around him and leaned in slightly. "And take care of that sister of yours. Keep her in line."

Matt felt himself smile wryly. "Always."

The two of them broke apart, and Jack clapped his hands. "Well, I guess this is it."

"Do you know where you're going?" Jenny asked.

"Nope—more fun that way." Jack winked.

There was a knock at the door. "That sounds like our cue," Rose said softly.

The five of them turned to leave as the guard opened the door again.

Matt was just about to step out when he felt a hand on his arm.

Jack swallowed, and shook his arm a little. He opened his mouth to speak, but Matt could see everything he was trying to say in his eyes.

He patted Jack's wrist. "I know," he said.

Jack nodded, and let his hand slide off of Matt's arm. Matt smiled slightly, and left the room.

* * *

Amy was quiet during the entire ride back to his flat.

Every joint in Matt's body felt numb as he let them in to the apartment. He tossed his keys into the tray after closing the door behind them, and led Amy into the lounge.

"Do you want anything to eat or drink?" he asked, but his voice came out rough.

Amy shook her head. "I'm fine."

"Do you want to call Rory?"

She shook her head again as she sat down on his couch. "It's two in the morning over there."

"Right."

They were both quiet for a minute.

"Do you think he'll ever be able to contact any of us?"

Matt let out a slow breath and scratched the back of his neck as he joined her on the couch. "I don't know."

Amy leaned her head against his shoulder. "What are we going to do without him?"

"I don't know," Matt repeated lamely.

"He's Melody's godfather. He was supposed to fly out for New Years' this year to meet her. He's never going to meet her now."

Matt wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his side as her tears started up again. "I know."

Amy sniffed and reached up to furiously wipe at her eyes. "Who are these people that want him dead? I say we find them and kick some arse."

Matt chuckled. "I'm sure they would be terrified if you were the one coming after them."

"Yeah, well, they ought to be," Amy grumbled.

He chuckled again and kissed the top of her head. "Come along, Pond, we're going to get some food into you. You've had a long day."

She sniffed, but nodded. "Yeah, sure."

Matt sat her down at the kitchen table and turned to his fridge. "I hope you don't mind leftovers."

"Anything is fine."

"Right then—leftovers it is."

The two of them were quiet as he rummaged through his kitchen. He didn't dare to look at Amy until their food was in the microwave.

She was staring down at the table, her hands idly playing with the hem of the tablecloth. "Since when do you use tablecloths?" She asked.

He shrugged. "Jenny left it here."

The microwave interrupted them with a loud beep. Matt jerked back around to pull the food out and take it to Amy.

He set it before her. "Eat."

She hesitated, but gave in with a tired sigh. "So what's this I hear about you finishing your novel?"

He swallowed. "How did you hear about that?"

She shrugged. "A little birdy told me. They also told me it hasn't been picked up by a publisher yet."

Matt sighed. "No, it hasn't. Its fine, I still have a few more houses I haven't heard from yet."

"Why don't you send a copy back to New York with me? I could show it to my publisher for you."

Matt couldn't help the fond smile that crossed his face. "Thank you, Amy—that would be great."

She patted his hand. "What are friends for?"

They were quiet again for a while.

"Are you, Melody, and Rory still coming out for the holidays?" Matt asked. He only spared a short glance at her—he was afraid he already knew the answer.

In that small look, Amy's eyes told him all he needed to know. She reached out for his hand and gripped it tightly. "You know that if we could we would. It's just not a good idea right now."

"Right," he said quietly. "Of course."

* * *

Saying goodbye to Amy once had been hard enough. Saying goodbye to her a second time was almost unbearable.

Amy yanked Matt down into a hug as they stopped outside of her gate at the airport. "I'll call you when I land," she promised.

"Give Melody a kiss for me," Matt murmured back.

"Of course."

Amy kissed his cheek as they finally parted, but he grabbed her hand before she could walk away.

"I know Rory thinks it's his job to protect you and Melody, but take care of them, Amelia. And don't forget to take care of yourself."

She smiled softly. "I promise."

He let her go then, and stayed put until her plane had taken off.

Matt had only just started making his way home when his mobile rang.

He gave a glance at the caller ID before answering the phone. "Hi Jen, what's up?"

"Matt, you need to get to Saint Bartholomew's right now; mum and dad were just taken in." Jenny's voice was frantic, and Matt could faintly hear sirens in the background.

Matt's heart stopped. "What? I'm on my way, Jenny, what happened?" He stepped on the gas as he made a quick turn onto the correct street. He wasn't too far away.

"They got caught in a house fire. Matt, the house…"

"Are they okay?" He demanded, firmly ignoring the nightmare images his mind was concocting.

"They're alive, but that's all I know. I haven't seen them yet." Jenny's voice shook with tears. "Matt, they won't tell me how bad it is."

"Alright, just hold on Jen. I'm almost there okay? Just stay strong for a few more minute. Can you do that for me, Jen?" Matt's heart was pounding so hard against his ribs he was sure it was about to burst from his chest.

He heard her pull in a deep breath. "Yeah, see you soon."

He hung up the phone, and drove as quickly as he could manage towards the hospital.

* * *

Matt all but slid into the receptionist's desk at the hospital. "Hi, I'm looking for my parents. Rose and David Tyler, they were admitted here today."

"Matt!"

He spun around as Jenny came jogging towards him. He met her halfway—nearly knocking her over as the crashed into a fierce hug. "Are you alright? Were you there when the fire started?"

Jenny shook her head. "I had just left. I saw the emergency services heading for the house and turned around."

They broke apart. "Have they told you anything?"

She nodded. "A—um, a doctor was out here earlier. He said that they both have minor first-degree burns and some lung damage from smoke inhalation, but they got out quickly enough that they're going to be fine."

Relief flooded Matt's body. He had imagined something far worse. "Do they know how the fire started?"

Jenny shook her head. "I don't think so. No one has told me anything yet, anyway."

Matt let out a slow breath and pulled Jenny in for another hug. "I'm just glad you're all okay."

They stood like that in the hallway until a doctor approached them. "Ms. Tyler?"

Jenny sniffed as Matt released her. "Yes?"

"We've decided to keep your parents overnight just to be safe, but you can see them if you want to."

"Thank you," Jenny said, and started to pull Matt down the hall.

The doctor stopped him. "I'm sorry, you are…?"

"I'm their son, Matt," he answered impatiently.

"Right."

Both Rose and David looked up as they entered the room.

"Hello, kids," David croaked.

Another wave of relief crashed through Matt as he finally got a good look at the two of them. His mum had a small cut across her cheek and a small number of bandaged burns across her arms and hands. His dad was in similar shape—with only perhaps a few more scrapes than Rose.

"I'm so glad you're both okay," Jenny choked out as she approached them.

"We both are," Matt said as he too stepped closer.

Rose managed a weak smile. "I'm just thankful neither of you were in the house."

"What happened, exactly?" Matt asked as he sat on the edge of David's bed.

"It started in the kitchen while we were upstairs, although we're not sure how," David said hoarsely before he let out a short cough. "None of the appliances were left on when we left."

"Are you absolutely certain?" Jenny asked.

Rose nodded. "Yes."

"And you didn't have any gas leaks that you know of?" Matt asked.

David shook his head. "None."

The small room fell into silence.

"Matt?" Rose's voice was barely above a whisper. "Is it possible…I mean…Jack only left a couple of days ago…do you think, perhaps…?"

Matt swallowed hard. "I don't know. I guess it's possible, but I've been assured that you're all being guarded."

"People slip through the cracks," David said in an even tone, "even the best trained soldiers miss something every now and then."

"I have another question," Rose said abruptly, "who called emergency services? Because it wasn't either of us."

"It wasn't me," Jenny assured them when all eyes turned to her. "Maybe a neighbor saw the smoke?"

"We're fairly secluded, but I suppose it's possible," David mused.

There was a knock at the door. The four of them turned to see a hesitant doctor being shadowed by a policeman.

"I'm sorry Mr. and Mrs. Tyler, but this gentleman would like to ask you both a couple of questions."

"Come right in." David waved the man into the room.

The doctor turned to Matt and Jenny. "I'm afraid I need to ask you both to leave. Visiting hours are just about over."

Matt nodded and pulled on Jenny's arm. "We'll head out for home then. See you tomorrow mum, dad."

David waved as the two of them left.

* * *

Matt wearily climbed the stairs to his apartment with the mail clutched in his hand. He carelessly tossed his keys into the dish as the door shut behind him and headed for his study. His eyes scanned the mail as he flipped through the envelopes until something caught his attention. It was a letter from another publishing house.

Matt braced himself for disappointment and tore the envelope open.

His eyes fell onto the printed words, and his shoulders slumped. It was another rejection.

_Although eloquently written, your novel contains subject matter that we at Random House must decline your request for publication at this time. We thank you for your submission and wish you great success in your future. _

He snorted, and tossed the letter into the trash. As he did so, he uncovered a blank envelope.

Matt's heartbeat sped up as he dropped the rest of his mail onto the desk. He sat down in her chair, and carefully tore the envelope open. Inside, there was a simple piece of paper with writing similar to the last note he had received.

_The fire is your final warning. Stop looking. _

It was all too much.

Matt's hands clenched around the piece of paper as his head fell forward. He dropped the note into his lap and pressed his fists against his forehead.

"Clara, what have you gotten me into?" he murmured.

Matt expected himself to be angry. At her, at them, at someone. Anyone at this point, but the anger never came. In its absence there was an all-too-familiar numb feeling that had settled into his chest and was creeping out along his limbs. He was tired of this. He was tired of the secrets and the lies and the games. He didn't ask for any of this. He had just been a man in love with an extraordinary woman. How could something as special as that lead to this? To losing both of his best friends and placing his family in danger? And how could he be selfish enough to ask them to continue living in danger just so he could find out what had happened to his wife? His Clara.

His Clara. The thought sent a searing shot of pain into his heart.

_"You love with so much of yourself, Matt, that I sometimes wonder if you have two hearts just to fit it all."_

The memory of her voice eased him back down into his numb, tired state. She was right—he gave too much of himself to the ones he loved. And yet, Matt felt as though he never gave enough. There was so much about himself—his past—that he kept hidden. That he wanted no one, not even those closest to him, to know.

Besides, even if it were possible for him to have two hearts it wouldn't matter. It wouldn't make any of this any better. It wouldn't make it at all bearable.

Matt stood and headed for the kitchen. He couldn't take this anymore. He was so tired. He was tired of being angry, of being sad—of everything. He was too tired to fight anymore—he was too tired to feel numb, even.

He poured himself a drink, and knocked it back before filling his glass again. It was by no means a solution, but it would at least help him to forget.

* * *

It was much later that evening when Matt had to grudgingly admit that he was completely hammered. He had lost count of how much he had allowed himself to drink a long time ago, but even in this state he knew it was far too much. He was going to hate himself for this later.

Matt groaned when someone knocked at the door; he wasn't expecting company, was he? Was he? He didn't know. He barely knew anything at this point.

He groaned again when the knocker persisted. "It's open!"

Someone cautiously opened the door, and Matt let out a sigh of relief that the knocking had stopped. "John?"

He rolled his head over to look at his visitor, and gave her a sloppy grin. "Well hellooo there, Jenny."

She blinked in shock as she took in his appearance. "Matt, are you alright?"

He giggled to himself as he struggled to stand. "I'm just fine, are you?"

"Am I what?"

Matt sighed. "Alright silly." He stumbled forward, and smiled wider when Jenny jumped forward to catch him mid-fall. "Thanks."

She wrinkled her nose and deposited him down onto the couch. "You're drunk!"

"I would say so, yes." Matt smacked his lips together, and reached around for one of the bottles that was still half-full. "Want some?"

"Certainly not," Jenny said, and carefully took the bottle out of his hands. "What's say we get you to bed, ay? Doesn't that sound nice?"

Matt leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "No. I don't want to sleep. If I sleep then the nightmares will come back."

"Nightmares?" Jenny asked as she placed the bottle far away from him and walked back over to sit on his couch.

He nodded. "About_ her_."

His sister was quiet for a second. "Clara?"

He nodded again. "Yup."

She was quiet again, and Matt was grateful. He didn't want to talk anymore; he just wanted to drift. To float along and forget everything.

"Matt, what brought this on?" Jenny whispered.

He grumbled, but kept his eyes closed. "They sent another note."

"Can I see it?"

He pointed towards the study lazily. "In there."

He heard her stand up again and walk towards where he'd indicated. It didn't take her long to find the note and return to her space on the couch.

He opened his eyes finally to find her staring at him with tears in her eyes.

"This note made you do this to yourself?" she whispered.

Matt sighed, and closed his eyes again. "It's my fault that everyone I love is in danger. That note just proves it."

She reached out to grab onto his arm tightly. "No it isn't."

He shrugged her off. "Yes it is."

"Matt," she whispered hoarsely, and cleared her throat. "We can fix this. We can get you help for this."

He let out a loud laugh. "No, Jen. I don't want it. I don't care anymore. I'm tired, Jen—too tired to care about anything anymore. It's my fault. I can live with that, so long as I put an end to it."

He felt it when she froze. "Put an end to it?"

He was quiet.

"John, look at me please." Her tone was commanding, but he kept his eyes closed. "John, please look at me, please."

Matt sighed heavily, and opened his eyes.

There were tears on her cheeks now, but Matt couldn't find it within himself to feel guilty over causing her grief. He was too tired.

"Matthew, please don't ever do anything to hurt yourself." Her voice trembled. "I-I couldn't—"

She broke off, and he swallowed down a lump in his throat. He offered her his arm, and she curled into his side.

"It's just the liquor talking," he whispered into her hair.

She burst into a humorless laugh. "God, Matthew."

He let out a slow breath and let his head fall to the side so his cheek was resting on the top of her head. Neither of them said anything, and Matt knew there wasn't much to say.

Jenny sniffed. "Okay, can we get you to bed now?"

Matt nodded slowly.

His sister stood and Matt let her pull him up with her. He didn't resist as she draped his arm around her shoulders to help him up the stairs. He tried to keep as much of his weight off of her as possible, but he was finding the task more and more difficult with each shuffling step. He had come so far—so far—only to be thrown back now by a simple note.

He broke away from Jenny as they entered his bedroom and stumbled onto his bed.

"Goodnight, Matt. I'll be just downstairs," Jenny whispered.

Matt fell asleep shortly after she left.

Matt only hesitated for a moment before knocking on Jenny's door.

* * *

The two of them hadn't spoken since the morning after his night of indulgence. Or self-pity, he supposed was a better term for it.

His mum and dad hadn't heard a word about that night, although Matt wasn't sure he had completely been able to keep it from them. He'd thought he'd hid it well when he and Jenny went to drive them home after their discharge from the hospital. They couldn't stay at their house—the fire damage was too great—so they were staying at Jenny's for the time being.

Rose smiled widely as she answered the door. "You made it."

He returned her smile as well as he could. "Yeah, course I did."

He was quickly ushered into the house, only to be greeted again by an equally bright-eyed David and a wary Jenny.

"Jen, where did you want this?" he held up the block of cheese she'd asked him to bring for lunch.

"Oh, just follow me," Jenny said and headed off for her kitchen.

Matt felt a nervous flutter in his stomach as he followed her, and he could barely force himself all the way through the door.

She stared at him from across the island in the center of the kitchen. Her expression wasn't disapproving or pitying or anything Matt was expecting it to be—it was nervous.

"So, I take it mum and dad still don't know?" Matt asked after a few seconds of tension.

"No, they don't," she said simply.

Matt cautiously walked forward to set the cheese down. "Are you going to tell them?"

Jenny searched his face for a moment before shaking her head. "No."

"Then why did you sound so nervous over the phone?"

His sister closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath before coming around the island to take his hands. "I thought I could do this."

Matt's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What?"

Jenny swallowed before looking up at him with eyes full of guilt. "I thought I could do it. I was taught to keep secrets at a young age—to shut down feelings so I could do what had to be done. I thought this wasn't going to be so hard. But—and I don't know how or when this happened—I somehow managed to land the one job where people I actually cared for were involved."

Confusion turned into nervousness as Matt continued to stare at her. "Jen, what are you trying to tell me?"

She let out a slow, shaky breath, and squeezed his hands. "Matt, I love you, I just want you to remember that."

"Jenny—"

"I know who killed Clara."


	28. Chapter 28: I do

**Hello out there! So here it is, the chapter many of you have been waiting for. I hope it lives up to your expectations. :) Many thanks go out to Angela Shiroe and ThePurpleFrockCoat for your reviews.**

* * *

**Chapter 27: I do.**

Clara woke up the day before her wedding to a pair of warm lips at her ear.

"It's time to wake up, sweetheart," Matt murmured.

She couldn't help the warm smile that crept across her face as she stretched. "No."

"Clara, I can only hold Amy and Jenny back for so long before they break our door down to forcibly drag you from bed."

Clara giggled as he kissed her cheek. "Oh alright." She untangled herself from him to sit up properly. With a tremendous stretch and a yawn to match, she finally forced herself to her feet.

"Remember," Matt said as he bounced out of bed to find his clothes for the day, "if you need anything—if anything becomes too overwhelming, you can call me. I don't care if it's bad luck or whatever to see the bride before the wedding. If you need me you call."

"Yes sir," Clara answered playfully as she changed into her day clothes.

Matt caught her by the shoulders on her way to the bathroom. "Clara, I'm serious."

Her face softened when she saw the sincerity in his features. "I know," she assured him. She stood up onto her tiptoes to give him a firm kiss. "I appreciate it."

He smiled, and released her. "Jack, Rory, and my dad will be by in about an hour to pick me up."

"Do you know where they're taking you?" Clara called over her shoulder as she searched for her toothbrush.

"Not a clue, but I have a bag packed for nearly every possibility."

She chuckled. "With Jack Harkness as your best man, you could be in for anything."

Matt ducked his head into the bathroom. "I told him all of the rules."

Clara rolled her eyes. "I don't know why you even bothered. It's not like he's going to follow any of them anyways."

He grinned at her. "No, but I will. You're the boss, remember?"

Clara snorted. "Okay, whatever. I'll see you at the rehearsal dinner."

"Clara," he called over his shoulder on his way out.

"What?"

"I love you."

"Love you."

* * *

The rest of Clara's day was so jam-packed she barely had any time to worry about Matt. Amy, Jenny, and Rose arrived at the flat only shortly after the boys left. From that point on they had Clara turning every which way getting everything ready for the rehearsal dinner that evening.

"Remind me who thought having this dinner here was a good idea?" Clara demanded as she finished chopping up yet another vegetable.

"Yours," Jenny deadpanned.

"Of course it was."

Rose gave Clara's arm a reassuring shake. "You can do this, I promise. You're not alone either—we're all here for you."

Clara smiled. "Thanks, Rose."

Matt's mum nodded and turned to Amy. "How's that chicken coming?"

"Defrosted and ready to cook." Amy shot Clara a grin. "I don't know what rumors Matt may have been spreading about my cooking expertise, but I assure you that I do have one or two skills up my sleeve."

Jenny let out a short laugh. "I'm not sure I would call Beans on Toast a skill."

"Oi, I'd like to see you do any better miss I-haven't-used-my-kitchen-in-almost-a-year," Amy scoffed.

Jenny gaped at her. "That is not true! It's only been four months, tops."

Clara and Rose gave each other a sidelong glance before bursting into a fit of giggles.

"So Clara, has Matt told you where you two are honeymooning?" Rose asked.

She sighed. "Not a word—we discussed New York, but we decided that the expense was too high."

"Oh that's too bad," Amy said, "I know Matt's been talking about going to New York for ages. It's a wonderful city."

"Oh, have you been there?"

She laughed. "Right; in my dreams. Rory and I could never afford New York."

"Maybe one day we should all pool our money together and go," Jenny suggested.

"That's a lovely idea," Clara said, "what would you say, Rose? Think David would be up for the glamor of New York?"

Rose let out a chuckle. "David has been to New York, he hates it."

"What?" Amy exclaimed. "When was David in New York?"

Rose sighed. "Oh, it was years ago. It was before he met me—he was on a trip with a colleague of his."

"A female colleague?" Jenny teased.

Rose only rolled her eyes. "Yes, if you must know, but that's all they were. They had a rough time of it there."

"Why, what happened?" Clara asked.

She shrugged. "Oh, they just a little trouble with a few of the university kids. Evidently they had started up a cult on campus—but that's not my story to tell."

Jenny, Amy, and Clara all stopped to stare at Rose.

She glanced up, and gave them her best smirk. "Ask David."

* * *

The first thing Clara did when the boys got back to the apartment was rush outside to find Matt.

"Oomph—hello to you too," Matt said as she tackled him.

"Did you get everything set up?" Clara asked.

He raised his eyebrows at her.

"Right," she said, and gave him a quick peck. "Did you?"

He held up his hands. "Relax; it's all taken care of. You're stage is all set."

Clara grinned. "I knew I could count on you."

He grabbed onto her hand as they headed back inside. "What smells so good?"

"Amy has a chicken in the oven."

Matt stopped in his tracks. "I have told you about Amy's cooking skills, haven't I?"

She laughed. "Don't worry, she's under supervision."

Clara could see his entire body relax as they continued on their way to the kitchen. "Remind me again who exactly is coming to this dinner?"

"Well…it's really just everyone who's here," Clara said.

Matt cocked his head to the side. "What about your family?"

She let out a snort. "I truly doubt any of them would even show up. They're not speaking to me at the moment—the only one besides my Gran who said they'd be attending the wedding at all was Ada."

"I knew I liked her," Matt declared.

"Clara would you help me pass these out?" Amy asked as she thrust a pile of silverware into Clara's hands.

"I suppose not," Clara answered.

She had just finished passing out the silverware when two strong arms curled around her waist and lifted her up into the air. "Congratulations Clair-bear!"

Clara squealed. "Jack, put me down!"

Jack set her back down on her feet but the megawatt smile he was sporting didn't appear to be going anywhere. "I'm so happy for you two. What'd I say, huh? I told you that you two were meant to be, didn't I?"

She laughed and good-naturedly patted Jack's arm. "That you did, Jack."

"Okay everyone, take your seats!" Jenny cried out over the noise of the room.

The dinner itself was lovely. Despite Matt's warnings, Amy had done a wonderful job on the chicken, as had Jenny and Rose on their portions of the meal.

All eyes turned to the clinking of a glass as Jack started to stand.

He cleared his throat. "Well, you all know me so I'll get right down to business." He raised his glass up. "When Matt asked me to be his best man, I think he almost choked on his words in fear that I would do or say something classically Jack on this special occasion. And of course, that Clara would kill him for it."

A chuckle snaked its way around the table, and Clara couldn't help but smile.

"But I'm not going to do that this time." He trained his eyes on Matt and Clara. "Matt, Clara, I know I'm not best known for my sincerity—but I sincerely wish you nothing but all of the happiness this world has to offer as the two of you start this next chapter of your lives together. Here's to you."

Clara kissed Jack's cheek as he sat back down beside her. "That was sweet. Thank you, Jack."

He smiled at her. "Anytime, Clair-bear."

"I also have something I'd like to say," Amy said as she stood. She seemed to shuffle awkwardly on her feet as she picked up her glass. "Well…Matt, I've known you for a good while at this point, and I'd like to think I know you pretty well by now. I'd go so far as to call you one of my best friends—although I could say that of everyone sitting at this table." She pointed to Clara. "Yes, even you."

Clara blushed a little, and Matt reached out to squeeze her hand.

"Matt, I have seen you angry. I've seen you sad, I've seen you jealous, and I've even seen you happy. But never have I seen you happier than when you're with Clara."

Clara threaded her fingers with Matt's and leaned into his shoulder as Amy's eyes turned to her.

"Clara," she said, "you just bring a light to this weird little family of ours I don't think any of us knew was missing. Your kindness, your compassion, but most of all—your humor, is something we were sorely lacking. We all love you, Clara, but no one more so than the man you've chosen to marry." She held up her glass. "So here's to you and Matt. May you both find everything you're looking for together."

Clara felt tears well up in her eyes, and furiously blinked them away. She had promised herself she wouldn't cry during this whole celebration. This was supposed to be something positive in her life, and she wasn't going to tarnish that by crying.

"In case you hadn't felt fully welcomed before now," David said, and reached across the table to take Clara's hand. "Welcome to the family, Clara."

That undid her. Clara laughed off the few tears that escaped the corners of her eyes and wiped them away quickly. "Thank you."

* * *

"Do you really have to go?" Clara whispered as she and Matt parted from a kiss.

"No, I can stay if you want me to. Just say the word."

She chuckled and smacked his arm playfully. "I'm kidding. Go have fun."

Matt smiled and gave her one last kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"You better," she said.

He laughed softly and finally forced himself away from her. She watched him leave from the window—keeping her eyes on his car until it was all the way out of sight.

"Come on you," Amy said as she grabbed Clara by the shoulders. "We should get you to bed."

She sighed, but nodded. "Right."

* * *

Clara woke later that night with a start.

"Shh, I'm sorry," Matt whispered.

She squinted at him and tried to force her mind out of its sleepy haze. "Matt? What're you doing here?"

"I had to see you," he murmured, "I have something I want to give you." He presented her with a carefully wrapped box with a dark blue bow on top.

Clara slowly sat up and took the box out of his hands. "Where are Amy, Jenny, and Rose?"

"Downstairs, I had to sneak passed them."

She blinked the leftover sleepiness from her eyes as she appraised the box. "What is it?"

"Open it," he answered in a nervous voice.

She searched his eyes for a moment before tearing the paper off. The box itself was simple cardboard and revealed nothing to her. However, she could hear something jingling inside.

She felt her eyes light up with curiosity as she peeled back the tape surrounding the box and opened the lid.

Tears came to her eyes as she pulled out the gift. It was, quite possibly, the most beautiful gift anyone had ever given her. It was a music box with a polished silver base and gold trim. Glued to the base was an intricately designed tree, and attached to the branches of that tree were two glass birds. One's wings were tipped with a deep blue, and the other a soft pink.

Clara couldn't help the smile that came to her lips. "It's beautiful," she murmured.

Matt reached out and carefully wound the box.

Clara's eyes shot to his as the notes to "Skinny Love" started to play.

"I suppose it's not the happiest song in the world," Matt said quietly, "but it's our song."

Clara carefully set the music box down on her nightstand so she could pull Matt into a proper kiss. She couldn't believe how incredibly lucky she was to have met this man. This wonderful man with more love stored inside of him than she thought was possible.

"I love you," she whispered.

He smiled and wiped away a tear that had landed on her cheek. "I love you too."

"I can't wait to marry you."

"Neither can I," he said with a cheeky grin.

She rolled her eyes. "You're such a nutter."

"Not as nutty as you."

She let out an indignant squeak and smacked his arm. "Not funny."

Matt chuckled. "It was a little funny."

She sighed. "Okay, maybe a little. But only a little."

Matt glanced over his shoulder, and let out a frustrated breath. "I should probably get back before someone notices I'm missing."

"Fine," Clara muttered, but granted him one last kiss. "See you tomorrow?"

"You have to ask?" he teased with a grin over his shoulder. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Goodnight, Matt."

"Night, Clara."

* * *

The next time Clara woke up was to a screeching alarm.

She slammed her hand down on the annoying sound and rolled onto her back. Her hand brushed against the music box and she froze as it all came rushing back.

A slow smile spread across her face. "I'm getting married today."

"That you are," Amy's voice startled Clara.

She sat up in bed. "So, miss maid of honor—where am I off to first?"

She leaned against the doorjamb. "Well, you and Jenny are off to the salon to get hair and makeup done while Rose and I head back to the house."

"Wait, don't you need your hair and makeup done too?"

"I'll be there before you and Jenny are finished. I just need to stop by the house to make sure a few last minute details are all in order before I pass off my wedding planner duties to Jenny."

Clara nodded. "Right."

Amy gave her a smile of encouragement. "Hey, don't you worry about anything today. You just sit back and enjoy yourself. Today is your day."

Clara managed to smile back at her. "Right."

"Alright then." Amy patted her leg. "Get ready, we're leaving in about twenty minutes!"

"Right," Clara muttered breathlessly, "I can do this. I'm getting married today."

Somehow that thought was enough to propel Clara into action. She was dressed and perfectly presentable by the time Jenny was calling her name from the bottom of the stairs.

Clara allowed herself one last look at the music box on her nightstand. It was just starting to sparkle in the light coming from her windows.

She let out a soft smile. She couldn't wait to marry Matt Smith.

Matt's sister gave Clara her best and brightest Jenny-smile as she descended the stairs. "This is it! Are you excited yet?"

Clara laughed. "I'll let you know when the butterflies settle in my stomach."

Jenny continued chattering the entire car ride over to the salon. Clara wasn't even sure what she was talking about at this point, and she doubted Jenny knew.

"Here we are!" Jenny squealed as she parked outside of the salon.

Clara felt a nervous flutter of butterflies flare up in her heart. This was the same salon Amy had tried to take her to before her first date with Matt. She could only hope that this time wouldn't prove to be a repeat of that experience.

All three of Amy's stylists looked up with wide welcoming smiles as she and Jenny entered the building. "Hello there bride-to-be!" One of them—Dylan, Clara thought his name was—rushed forward to take Clara's hand. "We at Sally's Salon just wanted to formally apologize for what happened the last time you visited us."

"Oh that's alright," Clara assured them and waved off Dylan's continued apology. "I should have mentioned something beforehand. It's not your faults."

One of the other stylists—Vastra, if Clara remembered correctly—came to tug on her hand. "Well, why don't we sit you down so we can get started?"

Once the three of them got Jenny and Clara to sit down they worked like a well-oiled machine. They managed to keep only one stylist working on Clara at a time—for which she was incredibly grateful. It made someone she didn't know well touching her much easier to manage.

Shortly after Dylan had finished on Clara's hair and Vastra had taken over makeup, Amy arrived.

"Amelia Williams! Always a pleasure to see you," Dylan exclaimed as she entered.

Amy smiled widely as she accepted his hug. "Oh, it really has been too long." She glanced in Clara's direction. "Oh my god, Clara is that you?"

The nervousness came back. Clara hadn't been allowed to look in a mirror just yet. "Yes. Is it awful?"

"No! Oh no—you look gorgeous. Let her see," Amy told Vastra.

"Very well," Vastra said, and backed away from Clara's face. "I'm finished anyway."

Clara slowly stood up from the chair and turned to look at herself in the mirror.

She gasped. Instead of lying on heavy layers of makeup like Clara had feared, Vastra had simply used the makeup to accent her features, especially her eyes.

Clara smiled and spun around. "I love it. Thank you so much."

"Alright then." Vastra took Amy's shoulders and guided her into the chair. "Let's get you done."

* * *

A blanket of surrealism had covered Clara during the car ride from the salon to Rose and David's house. It was as though she was dreaming that this day was happening.

Clara had given up the hope of ever finding someone who would be able to love her long ago. She knew what a handful she was—who would ever stay in a relationship with someone who talked to people who didn't exist? Who could be fine in one minute, and snap in the next. And who was she to ask anyone to stay by her side when they could find something simpler elsewhere? Even she wasn't that selfish.

That was why Clara couldn't quite make herself believe that this was all completely real. She couldn't quite reconcile the idea that anyone—especially someone as wonderful as Matt—would want to marry her.

She counted her blessings every day that Matt had come into her life.

"So everything is already set up? The chairs, the flowers, the tables for the reception?" Clara asked for the tenth time.

Amy laughed. "Relax, Clara. Even the food is finished and being kept warm in the oven."

Clara let out a slow breath. "Right. And you had no trouble getting my dress there?"

"None whatsoever—everything is ready." She reached out to grab Clara's hand. "This is going to happen today no matter what."

She nodded. "Okay."

Amy pulled them up into the already packed driveway. Off towards the direction of the cliffs, Clara could see people gathering around the altar. Not that there were many people to gather—Matt and Clara's wedding had a total of fourteen people if you didn't count the bride and groom. Clara knew that was a ridiculously small number, but she didn't have many friends outside of Matt's family, and it wasn't as though her family was pounding on her door for an invitation.

"Do you know if my father decided to come?" she asked as Amy led her into the house.

Amy bit down on her lip. "He called this morning to say he wouldn't be attending. David has offered to walk you down the aisle, though."

Clara swallowed. She hadn't truly expected her dad to show up, but his blatant rejection still stung. "I would like that."

Amy squeezed her hand. "Come on, let's get you dressed."

Clara truly hoped that her mum was watching this day.

It hadn't hit her until she started to pull her wedding gown on—just how much she wished her mother was here to see this. To be with her throughout the planning and the search for the dress and the makeup and all of it. She had cried when she'd finally found the perfect dress, but not mainly because it was perfect. She had cried because it reminded her of the dress her mother had worn. It was a trumpet mermaid style cut, with lace that covered the dress from the bottom to the ends of her long sleeves.

She looked into the mirror as Amy finished zipping her up, and felt a lump rise in her throat. Even she had to admit that she looked beautiful.

"Oh, Clara, you look stunning," Rose said from her place by the door.

Clara smiled softly as she smoothed out the skirt and spun around slowly to face Rose. "Thank you, Rose."

She grinned, and grabbed a bag as she stood. "Now, Amy and I have a little gift for you."

"Oh?"

Amy pulled out Clara's leaf charm necklace. "Something old."

Clara's smile widened as she let her carefully pull the chain around her neck to clasp it at the back.

Rose pulled out a small box. "We couldn't think of anything new that was better than your dress, but I did come up with this." She slowly opened the box to reveal a pair of sapphire earrings set in gold. "Something borrowed and blue. I wore these on my wedding—they were a gift from David."

Clara carefully took the box into her hands, but shook her head. "Oh no, Rose, I couldn't."

"Yes you can," she said simply, "they're yours. Pass them on to any daughters or granddaughters you may have." She pulled Clara into a hug. "You're part of the family now, remember?"

Clara had to blink back the tears that had abruptly sprung up behind her eyes. "Thank you."

"Listen, Clara." Rose took both of her hands. "I want to tell you something someone once told me. Someone I loved very dearly. This world isn't kind. It's dark and it's cynical, and it forces us to face the worst part of ourselves nearly every day. But one may face this whole world of demons for the sake of an angel, and when you find that person you should never let them go. You, my dear, have been Matt's angel."

Clara sniffed. "No Rose," she said, "he's been mine."

There was a soft knock on the door. "It's David; everyone's ready if you are, Clara."

Amy walked over to the door and pulled it open. "I think we're ready. Rose?"

Rose nodded, and gave Clara's hands one last squeeze before leaving the room.

Clara sniffed, and quickly turned to put the earrings in. She snapped the lid of the box shut as David came up behind her with a smile. "You look amazing."

She finished putting the earrings in, and spun around. "Thank you. And thank you so much for giving me away today."

David handed her the bouquet of flowers he was holding. "It's my pleasure." She took the flowers and he offered his arm. "Are you ready?"

She took in a deep breath, and took his arm. "As I'll ever be."

David led her into the hall, down the stairs, and through the kitchen to the back door. Amy and Rose were already on their way to the altar—Rose being accompanied by Rory and Amy by Jack.

Clara giggled. "I bet Rory had a fit over that arrangement."

David chuckled. "More than once." He opened the door and helped her navigate the concrete steps to the ground. "Here we go."

They started the trek at an easy pace. Clara felt herself begin to shake as they neared the space by the cliffs. Everyone had stood up by this point, and all eyes were trained on her.

"David, do me a favor," Clara whispered, "don't let me fall over, okay?"

David's warm hand clasped over the one Clara had gripped onto his arm. "I promise I won't let you fall."

The whole scene was just as Clara had hoped it would be. The chairs all had lavender ribbons tide to their backs, and the aisle was lined with White Rose petals. At the end, someone had set up a trellis with those same roses somehow intricately attached from the bottom of the structure to the top.

Clara's eyes finally settled on Matt as she reached the official start of the aisle. He looked sharp in his well-tailored suit, and Clara couldn't help the smile that reached her face when her eyes caught sight of the purple bowtie around his neck.

His face broke out into a bright beam when her eyes finally connected with his, and he held out his hand for her.

David stopped them just short of Matt's outstretched hand, and Clara turned her eyes to the wedding officiate. He was a kind man—with greying hair and wire-framed glasses—who had been nothing but supportive of Matt and Clara each time they had met with him.

"Who gives away this bride today?" he asked.

"Her mother-in-law and I," David answered before placing her hand in Matt's. He kissed her cheek. "Good luck with this one, Clara."

She chuckled as Matt pulled her over to stand in front of their officiate.

"Friends and family, we're gathered here today to celebrate the love of John Smith and Clara Oswald. Before we begin, I must ask if there is anyone in the audience who has a reason that these two should not be married."

Clara glanced out over the audience then, and caught the eyes of her Aunt Linda. She blinked, and a pool of dread gathered in her stomach.

Linda pursed her lips, and remained seated.

"Alright then, let us begin."

Clara blinked with surprise at Linda, and turned her attention back to Matt. He was staring at her with a gaze so full of love and support that Clara had to wonder how she hadn't already melted into a puddle before him. This man never failed to astound her.

"Clara and Matt have prepared their own vows for this occasion, so Matt, I'll ask you to go first."

The man stepped back as Clara handed off her bouquet to Amy and allowed Matt to take both of her hands.

Matt swallowed, and Clara could feel his hands trembling only slightly. She gave them a squeeze of encouragement before he broke away to take the paper Jack was handing him.

He smiled then. "Clara Oswald, you have never failed to surprise me. Even the first time we met, you managed to astound me. For those in the audience who don't know, I met Clara through her therapist who had agreed to help me find someone willing to be the subject of a novel. And, now that I've said that out loud, I'm even more surprised you ever called to arrange a meeting with me."

The audience chuckled, and Clara smiled.

"And since then, Clara, you've been nothing but a pleasant surprise. An adventure—and the best kind at that. I can't tell you when I first started falling in love with you, but I can promise you that I won't ever stop. You are the strongest, most amazing person I have ever had the pleasure to meet, and you're my best friend. Clara, I want to make you happy for the rest of our lives if you'll have me. To be your shoulder to laugh and to cry on, to be your confidant and protector, but most importantly to be your best friend."

Clara felt tears come to her eyes again, but forced them away quickly as Amy passed her the vows she had written.

She swallowed. "Matt Smith, if I were to say one word to sum up our journey together up until this point, I would not be able to find one word adequate enough to describe it. For there is no one, singular word big enough inside to describe the depth of the feelings I have experienced during our time together. Matt, I never believed until I met you that I would ever find love, so you can imagine my surprise when I woke up one day to discover that I had somehow fallen in love with you, and you with me." She paused to look up at him, and was surprised to find a tear in his eye.

She smiled. "Matt, you are one of those extraordinary people that holds enough love in his heart for every person in the world. You love with so much of yourself, Matt, that I sometimes wonder if you have two hearts just to fit it all." She glanced down at her notecards. "I can't ever promise to obey you. I cannot promise that we will never fight over things big and small and I cannot promise that our lives will have nothing but happiness in them. What I can promise, however, is to always love you through it all. You are the kindest, most patient and wonderful person I have ever met. You're my best friend, and from this day on I promise to always love you. To be your guide in times of trouble, and your biggest fan in times of celebration. If you'll have me, Matt, I would be honored to spend the rest of my life with you."

At this point, the officiate stepped forward again. "Let us have the rings."

Clara and Matt turned away from each other for only a moment to take the rings into their hands.

"Clara, please repeat after me as you place the ring on Matthew's left hand. John Matthew Smith, may this ring forever be a symbol of our friendship and the love we have fostered together. Let it serve as my promise to you to continue to love and cherish you from this day forward."

Clara repeated her part as Matt's ring slid onto his finger, and he caught her fingers to take her hand.

Clara felt that surreal blanket come over her once again as he placed her ring on her finger and repeated the same words.

"It is my pleasure to announce, with the power invested in me, that I can now declare this man and this woman husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.

Matt's hands slid around her waist as her arms reached up around his neck to pull him down into a tender kiss.

The rest of that night passed in a complete blur. Clara could vaguely remember dancing and food involved. She remembered a whirlwind of congratulations, and then a quick exit at the end of the night.

Three days later, she and Matt boarded a plane bound for New York, and Clara couldn't keep the beaming smile off of her face the entire ride across the Atlantic. She couldn't believe how fortunate she was for choosing to go to the coffee shop that day over a year ago now. She had often found herself wondering what her life would have been like had she elected not to meet with Matt. What would have happened had she turned the cab around or decided to skip the meeting altogether?

She couldn't say that she and Matt hadn't had a few bumps along their way, nor could she say that there weren't many more to come. Her family, although not speaking to her at this point, would always prove an obstacle. And of course, her ever looming diagnosis would always be hanging over their heads. Clara would always be afraid of a relapse, and she knew that would lead to at least one or two lively discussions in the future.

But for all of the obstacles they still had to face together, and even for all of the pain she had to go through to find him, Clara Smith wouldn't have changed a single moment of her life up until now for all the world.


	29. Chapter 29: Confessions

**Hi folks. Just a quick announcement to get out of the way before I leave you all with part one of the finale here. So, it turns out that as I've been writing this I've collected some extra content that I couldn't fit into the story. I'd be happy to post it, but only if there's an interest. Leave me a comment or a pm if that's something you'd like to see. If enough people request it, I'll have it up shortly after the epilogue. :)**

**Many thanks go out to Angela Shiroe for such a lovely review.**

**Many, many thank you's go out to my Beta, Melt into the Air, for sticking with me through this crazy ride. :)**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 28: Confessions.**

Matt couldn't believe what he had just heard.

He forced his frozen form to move. "You what?"

Jenny closed her eyes. "I know who killed Clara."

"Who did? Why haven't you told the police yet?" Matt reached out to grip her arms, but Jenny backed away.

She walked over to the counter by the sink and started to push appliances out of the way. "Because I need to make this right, and I can't do that if they know."

"Jenny, I don't—"

She pulled a panel away from the wall of her kitchen and Matt froze.

Jenny slowly turned to him with the gun in her hands, and set it down on the island. "The police will be on their way here as soon as I leave. Show this to them and tell them to test it. They'll find that this gun matches the bullet that killed Clara."

Matt stepped backwards. "Jenny, why do you have that?"

"Jenny? Matt? Is everything all right in there?" Rose's voice called.

"I did it," Jenny said, "I killed Clara."

In that moment, Matt's world completely shattered. He stood frozen as Jenny turned and grabbed another gun from the space behind the wall panel. She checked to see if it was loaded, and turned back to face Matt.

"And I'm going to make this right," she finished quietly.

Matt blinked then, and anger bubbled up into his mouth as pieces started to click into place. Jenny, who had been with Jack when he was called away to save Clara. Jenny, who had been with Rose and David right before their house had started burning. Jenny, who had never liked to talk about her past and rarely ever offered to allow any friends or family in her home.

And yet, it still made no sense.

Jenny spun on one heel and headed for the back door.

"Jenny, wait!" Matt cried suddenly, and lunged for her. "We can figure this out, but you have to go to the police. You have to give them that gun."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Matt, but I can't do that yet."

"Jen—" Matt grabbed at her arm, but Jenny stopped him with a quick punch to his throat. He leaped back as the air left his body and she scrambled away.

He ran out after her once he'd gotten his breath back, but by that time Jenny was across the street in a car he'd never seen before pulling away from the curb.

Matt fished his car keys out of his pocket and ran for his car.

"What's going on?" Rose demanded as she stepped outside.

Matt could hear sirens headed their way. "No time, just give the gun in the kitchen to the police and tell them it's Jenny's."

"What?" She shrieked as he started up the car and drove after Jenny. He could see her headlights fading from view in the distance, and stepped on his gas.

Jenny attempted to lose him in the traffic of London. Matt kept his eyes trained on her car as she turned every which way in an attempt to shake free from his pursuit.

He heard his phone ring.

"Stop following me," she warned when he answered the call.

"How could you be the one?" Matt demanded. "How could you have killed her? Jenny, is someone making you cover for them?"

"No, Matt. I did it. It was just a job; I was just following my orders." Her tone was bitter.

"Orders from whom?" Matt demanded. "Who would tell you to kill Clara?"

"You already know who," she shot back.

Matt couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're a member of the Silence?"

"Think back, Matt, think back to when you first met River. Do you remember how I used to try to get you interested in nearly every other girl that came along? River was the one who got Simeon to recruit me right before I was adopted by the Tylers. The Silence was in charge of the foster home we were both living in at the time, and they were the ones who placed me with Rose and David. I met River at the same library you did, Matt, only a short time before you met her."

Matt followed Jenny into another right turn and tried to work through the turmoil of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. The sheer amount of coincidence involved with the situation he was currently in was almost enough to make his head explode.

"How can any of this be true?" He demanded of no one.

"I'm so sorry Matt, I truly am. It was just a job—I thought I could handle it. I thought you would never need to know. But I didn't count on caring about you, or meeting Clara. I was supposed to kill her as part of my final initiation to the organization, but I didn't count on knowing her beforehand…" her voice shook. "Matt, I can't tell you how sorry I am."

Matt still couldn't wrap his head around the amount of information he had just learned. "Jenny, you can make this right. You can go to the police and tell them everything you know. I can get Detective Smith to help you if you just work with them."

There was silence on the line of a moment, and Matt kept his eyes fixed on her taillights.

"I'm sorry Matt, I can't do that."

"Jenny, Jen listen to me, you—" the line went dead, and Matt lost her taillights.

* * *

Matt had been driving around looking at Jenny for what was nearing an hour now. He had looked nearly everywhere. Anywhere he thought she might be. She had said she needed to make things right, and Matt knew that was the key.

He sighed heavily and let his head rest against his steering wheel.

His mobile buzzed again, and he picked it up quickly. "Jenny?"

"No, Detective Smith. Matt, what's going on? We got the gun that was left at your sister's home, and it matches the bullet that killed your wife. Matt, it's registered to your sister."

Matt's heart broke when Sarah-Jane's words finally registered in his brain. "How could she do this?"

The Detective sighed. "I'm so sorry, Matt. But listen—we've got search crews out looking for her. You need to come back and give a statement."

Matt blinked when something in his mind clicked. "Detective Smith, has anyone checked the warehouse where Clara was killed?"

"No, but it's rare that a killer would return to the scene of the murder."

"I'll talk to you soon," he said, and hung up.

* * *

Matt felt his stomach drop when he pulled up to the warehouse to find two cars parked outside—one of them being Jenny's.

He shut down the engine and pulled in a deep breath. "I can do this."

He stepped out of the car and marched towards the warehouse. Inside he could hear voices. Two voices to be exact—two distinctly familiar voices.

"Damn it, River! I'm not like you—I can't compartmentalize everything! I can't push my feelings away like that!" Jenny shouted.

Matt's heart nearly stopped at the mention of River's name, but he entered the warehouse anyway.

"But if you don't Simeon will kill not only you, but everyone you're trying to protect! Is that what you want?"

Both women whirled around with weapons ready when they heard Matt's foot kick a piece of metal across the floor.

Matt raised his hands quickly. "It's just me! Don't shoot!"

Jenny visibly deflated as she lowered her gun. "I told you not to follow me. Simeon is going to be here any minute and if he sees you, he will kill you."

"The police are on their way here right now," Matt said, "we can get out of here before Simeon ever arrives and Detective Smith can take over. Please Jen, we can figure this out if you just come with me."

"What is there to figure out?" Jenny hissed. "I killed Clara. I hate that I did it, but I did and there's nothing more to say about it."

"But you can have a chance to help keep the Silence from ever killing again! If you come with me and tell the police everything you know." Matt held out his hand. "Please Jenny, come with me."

"They'll kill you both if you go with him," River hissed.

"We can get protection," Matt shot back.

Jenny opened her mouth to speak, when the sound of footsteps and loud voices started nearing the building.

"River, take Matt back," she ordered.

River nodded, and grabbed Matt's arm to pull him out of the back of the warehouse, but he resisted. "No. Jen, let me help you."

Jenny's eyes were shinning as she looked at him. "I'm beyond saving, Johnny Boy, but you aren't. You need to go."

"No, Jen—"

"Now!" Jenny shouted as the warehouse doors flew open and four men came sauntering in.

"Hello, Jenny. And River too, what a pleasant surprise." A man in a ridiculous top hat and vintage coat said with a twisted smile.

River grabbed Matt by the arm and forcibly dragged him behind her. "Stay quiet," she hissed.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" the man who Matt could only assume was Simeon himself asked in a velvety smooth voice.

Jenny never took her eyes off of Simeon as she waved in Matt's direction. "This is Matt Smith, the Tylers' other adopted child."

Simeon took a step forward. "Smith? Where have I heard that name before…? Ah yes." He pointed at Matt. "You're the journalist husband. So good to meet you."

Matt felt the first inkling of fear start to trickle into his heart.

"Sir," one of the men surrounding Simeon said with one hand pressed to an earpiece. "We just received word that police forces have been dispatched and are on their way here. We need to leave."

Simeon sighed. "And I was so looking forward to this." He turned away and waved his hand. "Jenny dear, I'm afraid we'll have to save this for another time. River, do be a good girl and dispose of Mr. Smith."

Jenny trained her gun on Simeon, and all four of his guards aimed their weapons at her.

Simeon paused, and turned back around. "Yes?"

"You made me kill her," Jenny hissed, "I'm not a killer."

River started towards Jenny, but Simeon held a hand up. She stopped, and Matt kept his wide eyes trained on the scene before him.

"If you're not a killer, then what in heaven's name are you doing with that gun?" Simeon demanded.

He chuckled when Jenny held her ground. "I never made you do anything, dear. You pulled the trigger all by yourself. The killer was always inside of you—all I did was foster its growth." He smirked. "And such a talented killer you are. Please, lower your weapon. It would be a shame to lose such a beauty like you today."

Jenny shook her head. "I hate you."

"Good," Simeon stated simply.

Matt could hear sirens in the distance. "Sir, we have to go now," one of the other men urged.

Simeon sighed, and turned his eyes on Matt. He tipped his hat. "Pleasure to meet you—so sorry for your loss. Now Tom, if you please, do kill them."

"No!" Jenny shouted, and shot at one of the guards.

"Run!" River shouted as she yanked Matt behind one of the large pillars.

The whole warehouse descended into chaos then as the sirens got closer and voices started shouting. Matt heard bullets flying as River continued to exchange shots with the men closest to Simeon.

Matt heard Jenny cry out, and scrambled to his feet to look around the pillar.

"Jenny!" He shouted when he caught sight of her. She had been shot near the heart and was splayed out on the concrete.

Matt felt sick when he saw the blood welling up from her wound and tried to reach her, but River quickly shoved him back behind the pillar.

"Stay down!" She commanded.

Matt heard the doors of the warehouse burst open as the police finally got inside. The sound of gunfire died and was replaced with their commanding voices.

River raised her hands quickly and dropped her weapon. Matt stood and all but ran around the pillar to get to Jenny.

"Hold it!" And officer shouted and aimed his weapon at Matt.

"No, he's fine!" Detective Smith cried out as she entered the warehouse. "He's with us."

"We need a paramedic!" Matt bellowed as he rushed to Jenny's side and placed his hands over her wound. The bullet had found her heart, of that he was sure, but he could save her. He knew he could save her. He had to save her.

She stared up at him with bleary eyes. "Matt, I—"

"It's okay, Jen," he told her, "it's okay. I forgive you, Jenny, just please try to hang on okay? Just hang on."

Tears pooled in her eyes. "I had so many things I wanted to do." She gasped.

Matt felt the tears prick at his own eyes. "Jen, no. You have to hold on. We still have so many things left to see. Do you remember how I promised to take you traveling? We can still do that. We can go anywhere—everywhere. Anywhere you want."

He felt her trembling beneath his hands. "That sounds good."

"Jenny, you're my sister and I love you. I love you Jen, please." Matt panicked when she started to close her eyes. "Jenny, do you hear me? Jenny? Jen?"

Matt wasn't even aware of the paramedics approaching until four strong arms yanked him away from her. He was only vaguely aware of himself shouting at her—what, he didn't know. The two police officers who had grabbed him pulled him out of the warehouse despite his thrashing. They forced him into the back of one of their cars and shut the door.

Matt pounded on the glass as he watched the paramedics lift Jenny onto a stretcher with a body bag. She wasn't dead, she couldn't be dead. He had to save her before they made a huge mistake.

"Jenny!"

* * *

This was it. This was the nightmare.

Matt had thought his life before this day had been the true nightmare. That there was no possible way that things could be any worse than they already were.

He was wrong. That life had been a dream compared to this.

This stuff just didn't happen—not to normal people, anyway. This was the kind of stuff that only happened in movies and books. This horror couldn't be real.

Matt didn't listen to what the doctor told him after his examination in the hospital. He wasn't entirely aware when he had left the hospital to be taken here or who had brought him, and he didn't remember coming to this room.

Matt wanted to scream. He wanted to flip the table that was in front of him and kick the door down and continue to break everything in his path. But instead, he simply stared at the one-way mirror in front of him and waited.

Detective Smith entered the room, but didn't say anything as she sat across from him and folded her hands over a manila file.

Several seconds passed before Matt found it within himself to speak.

"Did you arrest him?"

She let out a slow breath. "Yes."

Matt wanted to say he felt relieved. He wanted to say that he felt something—anything—over this news, but all he felt was hollow.

"Good," he said finally.

Sarah Jane leaned forward when he didn't continue. "Matt, we need a statement from you. And the prosecution would like you to testify against Simeon."

"Why don't you ask River?"

Detective Smith bit down on her lip. "She's still at large. You're the only witness we have."

"You lost River?"

She nodded. "She escaped out of the back of the building."

Matt felt a small, wry smile briefly cross his face. Somehow, he wasn't surprised that River had managed to evade custody.

"Her disappearance also means that it is likely the Silence will make another attempt on your life. Now, should you choose to use it, we are prepared to enter you into the witness protection program. I should warn you though; once you enter you must remain in custody until the Silence are fully dismantled."

"Which means I could be in custody indefinitely," Matt stated.

She nodded. "Yes."

"Can you tell me when I will be moved?"

"We'll have you out of here by the end of the week."

Matt nodded. "Have my parents been notified of the situation?"

Sarah Jane looked down at her hands. "They're both being transported here as we speak."

"Good," he said.

* * *

All of this was just too surreal to hold any kind of truth to it.

Matt was standing over his sister's grave with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. He had missed the ceremony—it had been decided for him that an occasion with that many people would be too dangerous for him to attend. However, Matt fought until he was allowed to at least visit her grave before he was transported to his new safe house in who-knows-where. They hadn't actually told him yet.

Matt cleared his throat. "Hi, Jen. These are for you." He set the flowers down on the edge of her headstone. "So, they're moving me today. They packed my apartment for me and everything—I didn't even have to pick up any of the boxes myself."

He paused, and let out a slow breath. He had thought he would be used to this by now.

"I finally took your advice and started seeing a therapist. Well, she's state mandated to talk to me, but I'm cooperating. Somewhat." He chuckled to himself at that. "I think you'd like her, Jen, she kind of reminds me of my foster parent Carrol. Same no-nonsense attitude."

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder then, and turned to see Rose and David standing beside him.

Matt blinked back tears as he wordlessly pulled Rose in as close to him as he possibly could. He hadn't seen either of them since the day Jenny had confessed.

"They told us this is our only chance to say goodbye," Rose muttered into his shoulder.

Matt tucked his chin over the top of her head. "I don't know how to do that."

"It's not really goodbye anyway," David interjected, "Now that they have the head of this organization in custody, it shouldn't be too long before they dismantle the rest of it. Right?"

Matt nodded as Rose finally released him. "Right."

Rose wiped away a stray tear and pulled first David and then Matt in on either side of her. "Listen, Matt, we love you. You'll always have a home with us."

"That's right," David said, "should you ever need anything, we want you to call us."

Matt gave them both a weak smile. "I never did thank either of you for taking me in, did I?"

Rose shook her head. "You never had to."

"Well I want to. You've both come to mean a great deal to me. You're like the parents I never had, and I don't ever want you to believe for even a moment that I'm not grateful for everything you've done for me."

David clapped his shoulder. "We know."

One of the guards charged with watching over Matt tapped his shoulder. "Sir, I'm sorry to cut this short, but we have to transport you now."

Matt nodded. "Alright, just give me a moment." He looked back to David and Rose, and leaned over to kiss Rose's cheek. "Thank you both for everything."

She sniffed as he broke away from them and followed the guard back to the car.

Matt never allowed himself to look back for even a moment.

* * *

They stopped at his flat first so he could pick up the few things he had left there, including his mail.

Matt grabbed the stack of envelopes as he ran up the stairs to his apartment. He sifted through the bills as he headed up to his bedroom to grab the one suitcase he had left here. His guard had already searched the place for intruders, and had set himself up at Matt's front door to wait.

Matt stopped at the top of his staircase when his eyes caught sight of an envelope from Amy's publishers in New York.

He tore it open quickly and scanned the letter.

His heart nearly stopped.

They wanted his novel.

He had, of course, already sent a copy of the latest final draft to Amy. She would be the one to publish it on his behalf. He had sent her a detailed email explaining in detail what could and could not be changed during the editing process, and he trusted she would abide by it as well as she could. He only hoped the publishing house would be willing to do the same.

That last phone call with Amy had almost been the death of him.

_"I'm flying out there,"_ Amy had declared.

_"No. Listen, Amelia, you can't just keep leaving Melody and Rory every time something happens to me over here. Besides, I'll be gone by the time you can get a flight out here."_

She started crying then. _"You're right. I know you're right. I just hate it when you're right."_

Matt had chuckled then. _"I love you, Amelia Pond."_

_"I love you too, Raggedy Man,"_ she whispered. _"Goodbye."_

He smiled at the memory, and carefully tucked all of his mail into his suitcase. There was no one he trusted more to handle his affairs with the publishing house than Amy.

Matt took one last look around the apartment as he came back down the stairs. His footsteps echoed off of the bare walls in a way that made him shudder slightly. The space somehow felt small now that there was nothing to fill it with, and that thought made it so Matt had to swallow down a lump in his throat. This was the place he and Clara were supposed to be starting their lives together in. This was where they were supposed to bring their first child home from the hospital. This was where they were supposed to spend their Christmases and New Years and birthdays together. Instead, someone else would fill the space. Some stranger or strangers would come in to share in all of those days they had missed.

Matt looked down at his feet, and smiled slightly. He wished those strangers all of the luck in the world.

His guard went on alert when someone hit the buzzer to the building.

Matt waved him off. "Who is it?"

"Dave Oswald. I heard about what happened, Matt, I just wanted to say goodbye."

Matt hesitated before answering. "Be right down."

His guard followed him closely as he exited the building. Sure enough, Clara's father was standing at the bottom of the steps leading up to the building waiting for them.

"Hi," he said.

"I thought you never wanted to see me again." Matt knew his tone was biting, but he didn't care. He had lost all respect for this man long ago.

"I don't, but I—I heard about what happened and I just…" Dave shifted awkwardly on his feet. "I'm sorry, John, I really am."

"Aren't you testifying against Simeon?" Matt asked. "I thought they would have you in protective custody by now."

"They do," Dave said, and pointed back at a car where Linda was waiting.

"Right," Matt said.

The two men were quiet for a moment as they avoided eye contact.

"Matt, listen. I just…I wanted to tell you before you left that I truly appreciated the fact that you were in Clara's life." Dave reached up to scratch at the back of his neck. "I never saw Clara happier than when she was with you, and I…I was glad she had you."

"Thanks," Matt said after a beat too long of silence.

"Are you ready to go, Mr. Smith?" his guard asked abruptly.

Matt nodded. "Yeah." He held out his hand to Dave. "Goodbye, Mr. Oswald."

Clara's father took his hand. "Good luck to you."

Matt slept for most of the car ride out to his new house. From what he'd been told, it was a tiny cottage up North close to a small town he had never heard of. He didn't care. Anywhere was better than here at this point. There was nothing left for him here.

Matt spent most of his first night in his new house unpacking boxes. He had to keep himself busy or he knew he was going to do something stupid.

He paused in his unpacking when he found the set of tapes he had recorded Clara on. He pulled out the tape she had left him, and twirled it around in his hands. She had said she'd recorded her word on the back of the tape. Was he ready to hear it?

Matt spent a good twenty minutes unpacking his stereo and plugging it in. Once it was in, he quickly popped the tape in and pressed play.

Clara took in a deep breath.

_"One word to sum up my entire life? That's a tall order…"_ she trailed off.

Matt could feel the anticipation gnawing at his stomach as his heartrate picked up speed.

_"Complete,"_ she said finally, _"the word I would choose to sum up my life up to this point is complete."_

Matt squeezed his eyes shut as he heard River's voice call out for Clara.

The tape ended.

He pulled in a deep and shaky breath before turning off the stereo and popping the tape out. He set it aside and forced his legs to carry him to bed.

* * *

That night, Matt had a dream.

The two of them were dancing to one of his numerous Beatles CD's in the middle of their living room. All of the lights besides the one singular lamp on the end table by the couch were turned off. The current song that was playing wasn't really meant for slow dancing, but the two of them were content to sway in a slow circle anyway. Her head was tucked up against his chest and his arms were firmly wrapped around her waist.

"You know it wasn't your fault," she said suddenly.

"What wasn't?" he asked.

"That I died," she answered. "It wasn't your fault."

He swallowed hard. "Yes it was."

"No John," she said in that tone that left no room for argument, "it wasn't."

"But if I had only gotten to you sooner. If I had seen beforehand that something was wrong, if I had pressed for more information when you started acting strangely I could have—"

Clara pulled away from him to take his face in his hands. "Stop this. You cannot blame yourself for the past, and you cannot blame yourself for other people's choices. What's done is done. You had absolutely no control over any of it."

He tried to drop his gaze, but she forced his eyes back to hers.

"Matthew, I want you to be happy. I want you to forgive yourself and begin to heal from this so you can begin to heal from everything else that's happened. And if you can't do that for yourself, then I want you to do it for me."

Matt swallowed hard and looked down at his feet. "I don't know if I can."

Her small fingers pulled his chin up until they were eye-to-eye. "Matt, let me remind you of something Rose once said to me. She said: one may face a world of demons for the sake of an angel. You were my angel—now I'm asking you for the privilege of allowing me to be yours."

He searched her face for a moment before slowly leaning in to brush her lips with his.

_"Goodbye, Matt."_

Matt's eyes opened slowly as a sharp breath forced its way into his lungs. He coughed, and forced himself to sit up on the edge of the bed.

He sighed heavily, and let his head fall into hands for a moment before reaching out for his phone. He knew it would still be early in New York at this hour, and Amy liked to sleep in on Sundays, but he dialed the number anyway.

"Hello?" A groggy Scottish voice asked after the third ring.

"Think you can spare a moment for a friend?"

"Matt," Amy said with surprise in her voice. "Won't your handler be angry that you called?"

Matt shrugged. "Peter will get over it. I just had to talk to you one more time."

She chuckled. "That's my rebel. So how's the new place?"

He sighed. "It's not bad, how's New York?"

"Busy as ever," she answered, "you should visit sometime."

He chuckled. "Are you sure you'd have a place for me?"

"We always have a place set out for you, Matt," she said softly.

Matt felt the tears prick at his eyes, and laughed nervously when one escaped. "Sorry. I suppose it's early over there."

"It's never too early to get a call from you."

He swallowed down a lump in his throat. He missed her so much. "I don't deserve a friend like you, Amelia."

"And don't you forget it," she said with a playful tone in her voice.

Matt glanced at his clock. "So I suppose I should probably go to sleep now. I have a lot of unpacking to do tomorrow, and Peter really will kill me if this phone call goes on much longer."

Amy chuckled. "What am I ever going to do without you?"

He smiled softly. "Goodnight, Amelia."

"My Raggedy Man…" she trailed off. "Goodnight."

He pulled the phone away from his ear once the line was dead.

"Goodbye," he whispered.


	30. Chapter 30: June 7, 2014

**And so concludes the story. Over a year and a half later, and we're finally here. Many thank you's go out to everyone who read, reviewed, and sent me pm's. I only hope that this story has been a source of enjoyment for you all. Special thanks go out to Melt into the Air for being so wonderful through this whole process. Without her constant support and advice, I never would have made it this far. Many thanks also go out to Angela Shiroe and ThePurpleFrockCoat, for your reviews on last chapter.**

**After this, I'll post an epilogue, and that'll be it. Please enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 29: June 7, 2014.**

To say that the day started off badly seemed like an understatement to Clara.

It didn't start off horribly right away. She had woken up to her husband's lips on her cheek as he attempted to roll out of bed without waking her. She had smiled at his efforts, and let out a loud yawn as she stretched and sat up.

"Good morning," she had said.

He grinned at her. "Morning."

It was when he entered their bathroom that things started to go wrong.

"Clara."

"Yes?" she called over her shoulder as she fished a shirt out of a drawer.

"Why is there an empty bottle of your medication in here with a prescription date from November?" he asked as he came back into their room holding up the bottle.

She bit her lip. "Because I haven't been in to refill it yet."

He stared at her. "You're kidding, right?"

This was the point where everything went downhill.

Matt and Clara rarely fought with each other, but when they did they went all out. Both of them were fiercely stubborn, and neither would ever admit to losing an argument.

"I don't understand why you're making this such a big deal!" Clara shouted as she hurried down the stairs. They had been arguing about the empty bottle for over ten minutes now and she needed an escape.

Matt pounded down the stairs behind her with the bottle still in his hand. "Because, Clara, you _need_ this medication. This isn't like cold medicine; you're taking it for a _serious illness_."

She flinched at the word "illness," but held her ground against him. "Do you think I don't know that?" Clara demanded angrily as she gathered her coat and keys. A small, rational part of her knew that Matt was only looking out for her—he had always kept her best interests in mind and he had never treated her like Linda had. He had never once spoken to her like she was too young or too stupid to handle anything for herself.

Matt threw his hands up in the air. "Well at the moment I'm beginning to wonder."

"I'm fine," she told him, "I haven't had any hallucinations or delusions while I've been off the medication, and I'm planning on getting it refilled soon. Now, can we drop this?"

She turned away before he could see the lie in her eyes. She knew she couldn't tell him about the calls she had been receiving from Nina. If this was how he reacted to an empty bottle of her medication then how would he react to the news that she had been hearing Nina's voice? As much as she loved him, Clara still didn't trust him not to send her straight back to the asylum for that bit of news, and she couldn't go back there. Especially now.

He caught her by the wrist before she could walk out on him. "No, Clara, we can't drop this."

"Let go of me," she hissed, and yanked her arm out of his grasp.

Matt let his hand fall back to his side, and Clara didn't miss the hurt in the back of his eyes. "When are you planning on getting it refilled?"

"Tomorrow!" She shouted, and slammed the door behind her.

* * *

She spent most of her workday angry with Matt; although by the time her first break had rolled around her anger had subsided into guilt. He was right, she knew he was right. She just couldn't bring herself to admit it.

That was when she'd gotten the phone call.

_"Hey, it's me. Look, I'm sorry about this morning and I want to make it up to you. Let me take you to lunch, yeah? I'll meet you at the bookshop during your break and we'll go anywhere you want. I love you."_

Clara couldn't help but smile as all of her leftover feelings from their argument earlier that day completely washed away. She loved that man.

As soon as she closed her voicemail she put in a call to the pharmacy.

"Yes, hello, I'd like to order a prescription for Clara Smith?" Clara waited as the pharmacist on the other end of the line placed her order.

"Thank you," she said, and hung up.

"Hi Clara," Sophie called out as she entered the shop with Alfie's hand tightly wrapped in hers.

Clara smiled. "Hi Soph, and Alfie—how much have you grown since I last saw you? You look so big!"

The little boy blushed and grinned happily at her, but refused to say anything.

"Al, don't you want to say hi to Clara?" Sophie asked.

Alfie shook his head and broke away from his mother to run into the backroom.

Sophie sighed. "I'm sorry about that—he's having a hard time talking to people right now. It's kind of amazing actually, considering how chatty he was not too long ago."

"Don't worry about it," Clara said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "So, I hear the big interview for the school is this evening."

She nodded. "That's why we dropped by, actually. The interview is in only an hour or so."

"Well good luck," Clara told her, "I have no doubt Alfie will get a seat."

Sophie smiled. "Thank you, that means a lot."

"Ready to go?" Craig asked as he emerged from the backroom.

"All set," Sophie answered as she grabbed Alfie's hand again. "It was nice to see you again, Clara."

"You too," Clara said.

"Clara, we're not all that busy today, so you can close after we leave," Craig called over his shoulder. "I'll come back and reopen after the interview."

"Thanks, boss!" She called back, and waved as they exited the bookshop.

Clara quickly prepared the shop to close after Craig and Sophie drove away. Once she had finished tidying a few of the shelves she grabbed her coat and keys and exited the building.

She locked the door and started heading towards the flat. On her way there, Clara pulled out her mobile and dialed Matt's number. He was at work, so she really didn't expect him to answer, and part of her was secretly hoping he wouldn't. Her anger may have fully subsided, but Clara was still too embarrassed about how she had behaved this morning to speak directly to Matt just yet.

She let out a sigh of relief when she got his voicemail.

"Hi Matt, it's me. I ended up getting off early today so I'm headed home. We can just meet up there, yeah? Listen, I'm sorry about this morning too. As much as I hate to admit it, you're right this time…anyway, I'll see you soon." She hung up, and continued on her way.

She was just around the corner from their apartment when she felt a hand grab her shoulder.

Clara gasped and lashed out against the attacker until she caught sight of who it was.

"River?" she asked.

The woman smiled. "Hello again."

"What are you doing here?"

"I told you I would contact you when I had more information. I've found your mother's killer. Does this man look familiar to you?" she asked as she held out a picture.

Clara's heart was pounding as she took it carefully into her hands. The man looked roughly middle aged—with greying hair and the slightest hint of wrinkles around his bright blue eyes.

Clara shivered. She remembered those eyes.

"Yes, I know him," she said quietly. "That's Dr. Simeon. He stopped by the house once to have dinner with us. Mum and Dad said he was an old…friend." (Oh! I think I get it! [Apparently about three words before the reveal. J])

"He's also the man who ordered your mother's death."

"No," Clara murmured as she looked at the picture. "It couldn't have been him—he was so kind."

River took the picture from her gently. "I've arranged a meeting with him for you for this afternoon, so you can see for yourself. But I have to warn you, Clara, these people are dangerous. It is possible that you will be killed."

Clara bit down on her lip. A large part of her was consumed with ever-burning desire to come face-to-face with her mother's killer. To demand the reason for her death and to prove to everyone that she wasn't crazy. That her paranoia was valid. And yet, there was another part of her, one that had only started to grow once she knew for certain that she was in love with Matt, which was telling her not to go—to let this go and get on with her life.

"Where am I meeting him?"

"At a warehouse not far from here. I can drive you there—my car is parked in front of your apartment." River took her hand and led her around the corner to her flat.

"Wait," she said, and stopped. "Let me just…let me leave a note for Matt. He's expecting me for lunch; he'll get worried if he doesn't know where I am."

River pressed her lips together. "Fine, but be quick about it."

Clara all but ran into the flat and hurried into the study.

"Pen and paper, pen and paper…" she muttered as she searched his drawers.

It was then that Matt's recorder caught her eye. She paused in her search, and bit down on her lip. As much as she didn't want to think about it, Clara knew there was a chance she could be killed in this meeting.

"Clara?" River called.

"Just a minute!" she called back, and set up the recorder with trembling hands. She took a deep breath, and pressed record. "Hello, Doctor. I suppose you already know why you're listening to this, so I won't bother with the obvious…" Clara's voice trembled and she paused to gather her courage. If he did end up listening to this tape then she didn't want him to think she was afraid when she recorded it.

She glanced back as River came to stand just outside of the door to the study. "A friend of mine has been helping me find out the truth behind my mother's death. We're heading out to meet with a man that has some answers for me…"

It hit her then, what she was about to do. She was going to hurt him no matter what the result of this meeting. Suddenly the wedding band on her finger weighed ten extra pounds, and she had to swallow down the guilt. She had promised him forever; why was she doing this?

Clara felt the tears well up as she imagined him listening to this tape, and couldn't help the sob that escaped from her chest. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry Matthew, I should have confided in you. I know I should have, I wanted to, but you wouldn't have believed me. I love you, but if you had found out what I was doing you would have thought I was off my meds. You would have taken me right back to the asylum. Matt, I can't go back there." She let out a slow breath to calm herself. "No, I'm sorry. This is the only way. Odds are I'll come home after this, and you won't ever hear this tape…" she trailed off.

"Clara, we need to leave now," River urged as she headed back towards the front door.

"Just a moment more!" She called back.

Clara closed her eyes slowly. "I thought up my word," she said quietly. "I've recorded it on the other side of this tape. Flip it over and press play…and Matt…" She pulled in another breath, and forced herself to swallow down all of her guilt once more. "I love you. I always will."

She tried to force the nightmare images that were crawling their way into her mind. Odds were she would come out of this alive. Right?

Clara knew she was kidding herself with that thought, but she had to do this anyway. She had to prove to her family and friends that they were wrong. But most of all, she had to know what had happened to her mother.

"Goodbye, Doctor," she murmured softly, and her voice trembled with the thought that he would live the rest of his life without her. "Be safe."

She stopped the recording and quickly flipped over the tape.

"Clara!" River called.

"Hold on!" she cried, and hurriedly started up the recording again with shaking hands.

The machine began recording, and Clara pulled in a deep breath.

"One word to sum up my entire life? That's a tall order…"she trailed off, and smiled slightly at the memory of when he had first asked her the question.

She closed her eyes, and her time with Matt played out behind her eyelids. Clara knew that her life had truly begun when she met him. He made her feel special in a way no one had since her mother died. He had loved her in a way she had never believed anyone ever would. He'd believed in her and supported her each time her world had come crashing down. And through it all, he had somehow managed to make her feel…

"Complete," she said softly, "the word I would choose to sum up my life up to this point is complete."

"Clara, we need to leave now," River said as she reentered the study.

Clara nodded, and stopped the tape. She placed it into Matt's top desk drawer, and quickly followed River out to the car.

By the time they had reached their destination—a large warehouse off the side of a quiet road—Clara was a bundle of jittery nerves.

River cut the engine of the car and turned to face her. "Now listen to me carefully. If you want to get out of this alive, then you will not ask any questions without an invitation to do so. Simeon will tell you what he wants you to know, but you need to stay as quiet as possible. Do you understand?"

Clara nodded.

"Alright then," she said before letting out a slow puff of air. "Let's go."

Clara clenched her fists together in an effort to get them to stop shaking as River led her up to the building.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

Clara nodded. "Yes."

"And you're sure you want to do this?"

She bit her lip, but nodded. "Yes."

River opened the door and waved her inside.

Clara took one step into the warehouse and stopped. The space itself was large—with windows high above her head and several think columns of concrete acting as support beams throughout the building. What caught her eye, though, were the three men waiting in the center of the space.

Dr. Simeon smiled at her with open arms. "Ah, Clara, it's been too long. What were you last time I saw you, sixteen? My, how you've grown."

Clara swallowed hard, and stepped closer slowly. "Why did you come to my house that day?"

He held up a finger. "Now Clara, hasn't Miss Song explained the rules of this meeting to you?"

She closed her mouth, and waited.

The smile returned to Simeon's face, and Clara shivered. The expression was too twisted on his face to be genuine, and it didn't reach his eyes. His pale eyes that were looking her up and down as though he was sizing her up. She supposed he was.

He waved one of his guards towards the door she had just come through. "Keep an eye out. We wouldn't want any interruptions, now would we?"

River left Clara's side to take the place of the agent that had just passed her. Clara attempted to catch her eyes, but River looked right through her.

Simeon stepped forward and took Clara's hand. "Now where were we?"

Clara felt her stomach flip at the feeling of her hand in his, but she swallowed down her bile. "My mother. You ordered her death."

"Ah that's right, yes, it is a pity that I had to do that. Margaret—I'm sorry, Ellie, was always such a feisty woman. I suppose that's where you get it, ay?" Simeon patted her cheek and chuckled. "She was always my favorite."

Clara ground her teeth together and forced herself to stay silent.

"Unfortunately, she and your father had information I was in need of. I'll spare you the exact details of the matter, but to break the situation down into its simplest form: I needed an answer to a question. A very simple question at that. And because neither of them was willing to answer it for me, I had to take matters into my own hands." He sighed. "It didn't matter which one of them died, Clara, she simply happened to be the one in the car."

Clara blinked as she lost control of her emotions and began to shake. Not out of fear, though. No, the only emotion Clara felt now was pure, blinding hatred.

Abruptly, and without thought, Clara reached out to slap Simeon hard across the cheek. Immediately, River and the other guard pulled out the guns tucked under their jackets and aimed them at her.

Simeon held up a hand. Slowly, he reached up and swiped away the drop of blood that had welled up from a cut across his cheek.

Pride bubbled up in Clara. She wanted to do so much worse to him, but with weapons aimed at her she would take this small victory.

"I suppose that takes us to our conclusion," Simeon said.

Clara jumped when a loud thud echoed through the warehouse, and whirled around as someone entered the room with quick steps.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the person holding the gun as she marched towards the four of them. "Jenny?"

Matt's sister pursed her lips, and kept her weapon aimed at Clara. "Hi, Clara."

"Ah, my newest favorite. Jenny, we were just about to wrap this up, would you be a dear and clean up this mess?"

Clara's eyes widened. "What?"

"Oh, did you not know?" Simeon asked as that smile of his returned. "Jenny here is ready to graduate from recruit to full-time agent. You're her initiation." He, River, and the other guard breezed past Clara. "Finish her. We'll be waiting in the car."

Jenny nodded, and kept her eyes on Clara as the three of them left.

"Call Matt," Jenny said in a flat tone.

"Jenny, you don't have to do this." Clara took a step forward until Jenny's gun was nearly touching her neck. "You can let me go."

Matt's sister swallowed. "It's just a job, Clara, it's not personal. Just call Matt, but don't tell him I'm here."

Clara pulled out her phone and dialed Matt's number.

"Clara?" his voice sounded panicked. "Clara, where are you?"

Clara's eyes flickered to Jenny, and she nodded. "At a warehouse off of Kingsland Road."

"What on Earth are you doing there?" he demanded.

Tears came to her eyes as she swallowed. "I—"

"Well, isn't this just a party!" A familiar American accented voice called out enthusiastically.

Clara's eyes widened as Nina came into her line of sight. She gave Clara that easy smile of hers as she came to stand beside Jenny.

She waved. "Hello, Patient."

"It isn't real," Clara breathed, "none of this is real." Tears welled in her eyes as fear and shame swirled around under her skin. "I can't do this, Matt. I can't do this anymore."

"Clara—Clara, listen to me. _I'm real_, Clara, please trust me." She could hear frantic voices in the background.

"I can't," she whispered.

"Yes you can," Matt told her, "and do you know how I know? Because I know that right now it feels impossible to you, and you're my impossible girl! You laugh in the face of impossible! Please, Clara, let me do this. How many times have you saved me, ay? Please, just this once, just for the hell of it, let me save you. I'm real Clara, you have to trust me."

"I can't," she whispered again.

"Wrap it up," Jenny ordered.

Nina smirked at her. "Go on then, say goodbye. You know what's truly real."

Clara swallowed and closed her eyes. "I thought up my word," she whispered, and laughed without any life to the sound.

She heard him scrambling for something. "That's good. You can tell me when I get to you."

"No, Mattie," she murmured. "I left something for you in your desk drawer. Listen to it for me."

"Clara, no, don't do this," Matt pleaded.

Clara felt the tears on her cheeks. It was just like her to end everything like this—to ruin everything just as her life was falling into place. Linda was right; she never should have dragged Matthew into any of this. She should never have called him.

And yet, despite her guilt, Clara couldn't make herself truly regret any of the decisions that landed her with Matt. He had been, truly, the best thing to ever happen to her.

"John, promise me something," she murmured.

"Anything, Clara," he answered quickly.

She swallowed. "When this is all over…please just run. I don't want you to get mixed up in any of this. So run. Run you clever boy," she said as her voice dropped to a whisper, "and remember me."

"Clara, don't—"

Clara could barely force out her next set of words. "Goodbye, John, I love you," she said finally.

"No, Clara, please—"

She hung up, and tossed the phone aside. "Okay."

Jenny swallowed. "I really am sorry, Clara. Truly."

Clara grabbed Jenny's wrist and pressed the gun up against her throat. The point would kill her instantly, she knew, but none of this was real. She just needed to ride the hallucination out.

"Just do it," she said.

Clara never even heard the gun go off.

* * *

**June 20, 2014.**

Matt wondered if Mother Nature had a sense of irony.

The weather on the morning of Clara's memorial service was wet, dark, and dismal. It was so absolutely cliché that Matt couldn't believe it was a coincidence. He was never truly one to believe in coincidences anyway.

"Hey," Amy said as she met Matt at the front of the church where Clara's service was being held. "How are you holding up?"

"Probably as well as can be expected," Matt answered, and reached out to take one of her hands. "I'll be alright."

She didn't look as though she believed him as she allowed Rory to pull her into the church.

"And now, Clara's husband Matt has offered to say a few words."

Matt blinked and looked up as the pastor stepped down from the podium.

He felt Rose squeeze his hand in support, and forced himself to his feet. He could hear people fidgeting and coughing as he made his way to the podium with his speech in hand. He'd been up half the night trying to get the words to come out right. He still wasn't convinced that he had articulated everything he wanted to say, but at this point he supposed it would have to do. He could only hope Clara would understand.

He set his papers onto the podium, and cleared his throat. Everyone was looking at him with expectation and sympathy in their eyes. Matt hated that—the sympathy. Sympathy in this situation from these people that he mostly didn't know felt like pity, and Matt had never been someone who could accept pity.

He sucked in a breath, trying to pull the oxygen all the way down to his toes, and forced himself to get on with it.

"It all fades, doesn't it?" he began, "everything you are—gone, like…like breath on a mirror."

He shifted on his feet when someone let out a particularly loud cough, and forced himself to go on. "But change is inevitable, and it is my opinion that it is idealistic to say that change is always good. Times change, it's as simple as that, and so must we as they come. We all change, when you really think about it." He let out a small smile. "As I once told Clara—we're all different people, all through our lives, and that's okay.

"Clara would not want us to lose ourselves in this change. She would want us to remember all of the people that we used to be, and to continue to strive to be the people we have yet to become."

He paused to gather himself.

"To say that Clara was, and always will be, the love of my life is a gross understatement of her value to me," Matt said as he stared out over the group of people who had decided to attend Clara's memorial service. He found it ironic that, somehow, more people Clara knew had decided to come to this service rather than her wedding.

"My wife was an extraordinary person," he croaked, "she was the strongest and the bravest soul that I am likely ever to meet. As I said to her once—she was always an adventure." He smiled to himself. "To everyone, Clara was something of an enigma—simply because she was impossible. She was stubborn and opinionated and bossy when she wanted to be."

Matt paused for laughter.

"The Clara I came to know was kind. She was passionate and idealistic and completely wonderful. She came in and she saved me so many times and in so many ways. She was perfect. Always brave, always funny, always wonderful."

He pulled in a deep breath, and glanced down at his notecards.

"When I decided to write this eulogy, a dear friend reminded me of something I once told her." He glanced at Amy, and she smiled at him through her tears. "We're all stories in the end." He looked out over the crowd again. "Clara Oswald was the best story that I have ever had the honor of knowing, and I will not forget one line. Not one day of it. I swear." He paused, and gathered his papers. "Thank you."

He stepped down as they began to clap.

Matt wouldn't be able to say what exactly happened during the rest of her memorial service. It was all a blur of faces and condolences and tearful speeches to him, but nothing concrete. He vaguely remembered when they finally loaded her coffin into the hearse to be taken to the graveyard, but he couldn't say what happened between then and when he finally drove out to where they were holding the second half of the service.

There were less people present as they gathered around the space where they were lowering her casket into the ground—her grave. Matt had only wanted close family and friends there, so it had ended up being only the seven of them: David, Rose, Jenny, Jack, Amy, Rory, and himself.

He barely felt it when Amy took his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder. They were just finishing smoothing the dirt over the top of her grave.

"Will we see you at the restaurant afterwards?" she asked quietly.

He nodded. "Yeah, just…give me a moment alone."

"Take all the time you need," she told him, and kissed his cheek before she headed for her car.

John Matthew Smith stood over the grave of his newlywed wife with a single rose held loosely in his hand. Not a red rose of course—a white one. Her favorites. The only flower she would have ever accepted.

He felt his lips twitch up into a smile as he laid the single flower onto the grass. She would have loved the inscription he'd had carved into her headstone. _Travel the stars._

Matt sniffed. "I…I've decided to finish the book after all…for us, for you…for me."

He flinched when a strong hand found his shoulder. He had thought everyone was gone by now.

Matt's eyes met David's as his dad pulled him in for a hug.

"She loved you very much," he said before releasing Matt.

"I know," Matt muttered. "That's what makes it hard."

His dad let out a soft sigh, "I know."

Matt knew David had once lost a spouse himself. "Does it ever get easier?" he asked.

"No," his dad murmured. "I won't lie to you; the hole you feel in your chest right now is never going to go away. Not ever. What you have to do now, is learn to live with it."

Matt sniffed, and turned towards where his car was parked. "We better rejoin the others."

His dad clapped him on the back and let him lead the way.

Matt never allowed himself to take a second glance at her headstone until he was safely into his car. Only then did he allow himself one final look.

A memory of her figure flitted across his mind, and he could see her there—leaning up against the headstone with the rose in her hand. She was beautiful, of course. His Clara had never been anything but.

He blinked, and the vision was gone. Shaking himself, he started the ignition and followed the cars ahead of him out of the cemetery and down the road to the restaurant they were meeting in.

Matt cried the whole way there.

* * *

That night, Matt came home to an empty flat. He tossed his keys into the dish and stood in the foyer for a moment, just taking it in. The silence.

He walked through every room of his flat. The apartment felt as though it had lost all of its life. Its colors had drained away, the flowers that Clara had always kept around the house had long wilted, and the shelves of CD's and books had started to gather dust.

Matt hadn't been here since the day of the accident. He'd found it too painful to amongst his things. Her things. Their things. The life that they were supposed to have together.

He found himself in the study sitting behind his desk with her tapes at the ready and a mug of tea by his side. He had promised her that he would write her story. And yet, as hard as he tried he couldn't bring himself to start the tape.

He sighed, and finally gave up. He pushed himself up from his chair and shuffled towards the stairs. All he wanted to do was sleep—sleep and maybe never wake up. What was the point when she wouldn't be there beside him?

Matt went through the motions of getting ready to bed, but his mind was still far away. He knew that if he forced himself to fully face what had happened he would snap and possibly never recover. He could never do that to his Clara.

Matt swallowed as he slowly pulled off his bowtie. It was the purple one she had given him for his birthday. That seemed like so long ago now—as though it was another life altogether. A happier life.

He sighed as he carefully laid it out across his dresser and finished changing for bed.

He finally allowed himself to crawl into his side of the bed. He made sure he was lying out so he was facing away from where she would normally sleep.

He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. He could pretend. So long as he couldn't see that she wasn't there, he could pretend that it wasn't true. That she hadn't…

No. He couldn't do it.

Matt allowed himself to drift, and as he began to descend into sleep he swore he could hear her soft voice whisper something in his ear.

_"Run,"_ she murmured, _"run you clever boy. And remember me."_

Fin.


	31. Chapter 31

**As promised, here is the epilogue. Thank you all for sticking with me through all of this. Special thanks go out to ThePurpleFrockCoat and Angela Shiroe for your ever lovely reviews. Many special thanks go out to my Beta for all of your kind words. **

**Please enjoy!**

* * *

**Epilogue.**

**Eighteen Years Later.**

Matt smiled as he perused the shelves before him and found a familiar title. His novel—_One May Face a World of Demons_—was still being proudly displayed in bookstores even years after its official release. He saw it everywhere now, even in a small town like this one.

Despite its popularity, Matt had never allowed himself to buy a copy. It was too painful, even now.

Matt was out of hiding at this point. Fifteen years after Simeon's arrest, enough of the Silence had finally been captured that he had been allowed to break free from protective custody and begin living his life again. He still needed to live under a different name, and even three years after his release he had yet to reunite with any of his old friends or family. It wasn't for lack of desire, but rather out of caution. Many of the Silence had been arrested and the organization was almost entirely broken up as far as the police could tell, but Matt still wanted to be cautious. He would see them when he was absolutely certain there was no threat.

"You ready to go, Thomas?"

Matt turned away from the shelves to find Tasha at his side. He smiled. "Sure."

She took his hand as they exited the store and headed for the car.

It had taken over a decade before Matt had allowed anyone to enter his heart, but Tasha had always been wonderful. He'd met her at a church, of all places. She was the minister there, and had caught him walking through the graveyard nearby.

"You know, most people don't enjoy walking out here," she had said by way of greeting.

He had barely offered her a smirk in return. "I'm not most people. Do I even look like "people" to you?"

Their relationship from then on had been a constant game of back-and-forth, but it had remained solid. Matt still remembered the day he had sat her down to explain to her why marriage would never be a possibility with them. He had feared she would dump him then and there, but instead, Tasha had shrugged and accepted his limitations. She didn't know much about his past, but she did know he had been married before. She also knew that he was a widower when she met him, so Matt supposed he shouldn't have been surprised when she accepted the idea that the two of them would never be married so readily.

"You have a package, by the way," Tasha said as they pulled up in front their house. "I left it on the kitchen table."

Puzzlement clouded Matt's face as he followed her into the house. Who would send him a package? He had few friends, and no family that knew where he lived.

He picked the package up from its place at the table and squinted at the address it was sent from. He sighed in frustration, and pulled out his reading glasses. He hated wearing them, and he hated the fact that he needed them even more.

His eyes narrowed—it was from Amy. How could she possibly know his address?

He tore the package open and felt the air leave his lungs. It was a copy of the book.

Matt picked up the letter that was placed on top of the copy.

_Matt,_

_It's taken me years, but I finally found your address. Please don't be angry, and don't bother asking me how._

_I have no doubt that you haven't bought a copy of the book even though it's been out for years at this point. I know you, and I would never ask you to read it. I assure you it was kept as close to the original as possible, the only change that was made was a forward written by me to you. Please read it, Matt, for me._

_I know you want to wait to see us all again until you're absolutely certain we're all safe, but I feel obligated to tell you that we all miss you. You should see Melody—she's become a stunning young woman I'm sure you would be proud of. I know Rory and I are. Speaking of, Rory and I decided to move back home shortly after you went into protective custody. We live in Leadworth now._

_Rose and David send their love and well wishes. They recently celebrated their thirty-first wedding anniversary. They missed you that night._

_Jack sends his love as well, although I haven't seen him for a couple of years now. Last I heard he was searching for you. He misses you. We all do._

_Please, if you ever can, please come home._

_With Love,_

_Amelia._

Matt swallowed, and folded the letter into his jacket pocket before heading towards the living room. He sat down in his favorite armchair, and pulled in a deep breath for courage before opening the book.

_Forward, by Amelia Williams._

_I want to start out this story as honestly as I possibly can, and to do so I must confess something—I am not the author of this novel._

_The man who wrote this story was, and always will be, a dear friend of mine. A friend who experienced so much tragedy in his life that he had to leave it behind before he could realize his dream—the publication of this book._

_I only hope that he is pleased with this the final product._

_Before you begin to read through the pages of this story I only ask one thing—read all of it from cover to cover. I know I am one of those people guilty of skipping over things like forwards and afterwards, and of not fully giving my attention to the words set before me. Please, before you begin, please promise to truly read every word from cover to cover. Not for me, and not even for my friend._

_Do it for Clara._

_Sincerely,_

_Amelia Williams._

Matt felt a lump form in his throat as he turned the page.

_For my lovely wife, Clara. Peaceful dreams, sweetheart._

"Thomas, what's wrong?"

Tasha's voice pulled Matt back down into the present moment, and he furiously wiped away his tears. "Sorry, sorry, I just…" he looked down at the book and sniffed.

Tasha quickly walked over to him to take one of his hands. "What's happened?"

Matt shook his head and let out a low chuckle. "Nothing, I just…" he looked up into her eyes and found himself seeing a very different pair staring back at him. Eyes that he knew he would never see again.

"I need to go to Leadworth," he said abruptly and jumped to his feet.

Tasha blinked at his sudden outburst. "What?"

Matt grabbed his coat and began frantically searching for his keys.

"Thomas, what's going on? Why do you need to go to Leadworth?" Tasha demanded.

Matt stopped his manic searching to stare at her. This beautiful woman who had saved him when Matt was so sure he was no longer savable.

She deserved more than a lie.

He swallowed, and tossed his jacket aside. "Come here."

She cautiously came forward and he grabbed her hand. She allowed him to lead her over to the couch and sit them both down.

"Thomas, I don't understand what's going on."

Matt pulled in a deep breath, and closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids, he could see her. She was always on his mind, of course, but since he had met Tasha he'd found himself thinking of her less than he used to. It had gotten to the point where, at one time, he could barely remember what her face looked like.

Now she was back in full force, and Matt relished in her memory.

He took Tasha's hands in his. "I want to tell you a story," he said simply. "A story about a young journalist named John Matthew Smith, and a beautiful woman named Clara Oswald."


End file.
